I was pressured to potty train each of my three children.   “You better get that baby out of diapers.”  I wasn’t being lazy.   I didn’t enjoy cleaning feces off my child’s arse.  They weren’t ready.  Still, I caved to the constant criticism.  My son cried like Nancy Kerrigan as he sat on the potty chair.  Whhhhhyy?   I bought a seat with cartoon characters hoping to make the experience fun.  More tears.  I purchased a seat that played music when he tinkled.  More tears.  I became a potty chair collector.   However, unlike Precious Moments figurines,  I couldn’t display them in a curio cabinet.  (I never quite understood the fascination with that…