The Happy Pee-Pee Song

Freud could come back from the dead and write a best seller about my childhood.
There is nothing not cooler than every couple of years bringing a new girlfriend home to Philly
to meet the history of me via the retelling of my childhood. In specific my potty-training.
No, not my participation in olympics of the mind or mentally gifted program or how good at drawing I was,
or how well I played and shared with others... it's gotta be the most freudian story possible. During the telling I could
see the expression on the girlfriend's face go from interested, to amused, to uncomfortable, to concerned, to
"I'm questioning what kind of person you may have turned out to be based soley on this story and the fact that
your mother is telling it to me for entertainment".
Well Happy Pee-Pee to me! There is a strong possibility that my mom picked up a book on how to raise a puppy
instead of how to raise a real living boy. I learned both basic motor functions and umm, private functions based on
the reward system. When was the last time you saw a little gold star? Probably in elementary school to highlight
the swell accomplishment of a star pupil. Me, I was a star pupil of the pee-pee chart. Every time I successfully mounted that
monumental proclain thrown (and pointed everything in the right direction) I was awarded a gold star on the chart.
Oh that would have been quite enough gratification for any child but noooo I got the Happy Pee-Pee Song!
In case you haven't imagined my humility just yet, sing happy birthday out loud, keep the melody the same
but substitute all the lyrics with "happy pee-pee to you".