With some limitations, I'm in favor of the ever-onward-and-upward spiral of technology.
I appreciate DVDs and iPods, the wonders of instant access to information from the Web, and the electronic wizardry that allows me to send and receive notes to and from my grandwidgets via e-mail. I'm even learning to "text."
I take full advantage of the veritable plethora of television options provided me by the little satellite dish on my roof. I even have a digital picture frame that will hold and show a rotation of more than 100 photos, and as soon as I figure out how to load it successfully, I know it will be a lot of fun.
All these and untold hundreds of other technological innovations that improve, expand, protect and enhance the way I live are all blessings that I freely praise, but there are places where I really don't think technology ought to wander.
One of those places is the bathroom.
At present, all of the big people in Casa Aylworth III are involved in one mighty effort. We are all trying to get my wonderful grandson, Caleb, housebroken.
With my youngest baby being Caleb's mommy, Rebecca, it has been about 22 years since I was intimately involved in a human housebreaking.
During the last several years the only kind of potty training I have been a part of involved four-legged creatures, and if one of these had an "accident" I rubbed his or her nose in the, ah … er … well, evidence, and chucked the offender out of the most available window.
It was simple, straight-forward, effective and involved nothing that could be called technology.
Since rubbing Caleb's nose in any oops and throwing him out of a window would be both legally and morally unacceptable, his mommy and his daddy, Jonathan, have developed a simple reward program.
When Caleb makes a deposit in the toilet, he earns a sticker on the "potty chart." When enough stickers are accumulated, then he gets a toy car or truck for his efforts. It seems to be working, and if the local supply of small vehicles holds out long enough, Caleb will officially graduate to "big boy" status, which is any male child who no longer wears a diaper, even for sleeping.
The concept of potty training and recent technology came together for me when I was on the Web. I have reluctantly joined one of those social-networking sites, and the process of signing up required that I provide a collection of personal information. That included the fact I am an alumnus of Brigham Young University.
The other day, when I opened up the Web page, there was an ad for a potty-seat to help smalls to become housebroken. This one provided a little reward to the small. Each time he or she sat on it, the BYU fight song began playing.
I have to assume the designer of this bit of misplaced technology didn't know much about said fight song, because the opening line is, "Rise and shout! The Cougars are out!"
Do I want a fledgling toilet trainee to "rise and shout" as soon as his or her bum hits the seat? I don't think so!
So let me say, "Rise and shout, kick the technology out" of the potty chair.
Roger H. Aylworth is a newspaper reporter and columnist with a daily newspaper in northern California. His column, "A Place at the Table," appears Mondays on MormonTimes.com.
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