Pip stood before the potty, tail stiff as a twig. His paws clenched into tight fists. "I can't," he whispered, and shuffled backward. The potty lid popped open all by itself. A paper boat bobbed on the water, drifting toward him.
The paper boat bumped against his paw. Pip unfolded it carefully. Inside, a treasure map! Red X marks led to the towel rack, the soap dish, and the toilet paper holder. He followed each one.
At the towel rack: a shiny pebble. At the soap dish: a silver coin. At the toilet paper holder: a crinkly wrapper. Each one a prize. Pip's shoulders relaxed. The potty no longer felt like a wall. It felt like a starting line.
Pip climbed up and tried to sit. His bottom hovered inches above the seat. Tap tap tap went his paws on the rim. A drum! He tapped harder. Too loud. Too empty. Frustration tangled his fur.
The paper boat zoomed past his nose. Zoom! It left a trail of bubbles — tiny shimmering spheres floating through the air. Pip's ears perked up. He sniffed. Then he grinned. He chased the bubbles to the potty.
The bubbles swirled into the potty water. They twisted and turned, faster and faster, until they became a glowing golden whirlpool. Pip gasped. Then he laughed. He sat down without hesitation.
The lid sprang open with a cheerful clatter, like a crown popping onto his head. A happy hum filled the little bathroom. Pip stayed seated. He did it. He really, truly did it.
Pip hopped down, tail wagging. He ran to the adult bear and pressed his paws onto her knees. "I did it all by myself!" The adult bear lifted him up. Her smile was warm against his cheek.