The Magical Potty Trading Chart: Pt 6
By Sage Ann
Mike sat at his desk thinking, uncertain about whether the magical potty training chart had truly worked. Yes, Heather had wet her pants during the day just as Mary used to, and Mary had stayed dry during the day all week. But Mary was still wetting her bed most nights. So had the chart reached its limits? Was Heather’s potty training now too weak to help Mary? Or did the potty training chart just need more time? The only way to be sure is to watch and wait, to gather more data before making any additional changes to the chart. So he decides to leave the chart alone for another week, to see what happens without his interference.
Monday morning arrives, and their mother takes Heather to the doctor. Mike spends the school day distracted, wondering what the doctor will say, whether there will be tests or treatments that might interfere with the chart's magic. When he returns home, the house is quiet except for Julie's babbling from her playpen.
"Where's Heather?" he asks their mother, who sits at the kitchen table with a cup of tea, her expression troubled.
"Resting upstairs," she says, stirring her tea absently. "It's been a long day."
"What did the doctor say?" Mike tries to keep his voice casual, though his heart hammers against his ribs.
His mother sighs, pushing her hair back from her face. "Dr. Lin thinks it might be psychological rather than physical. She used a term – 'psychogenic regression' – which basically means Heather's mind is causing her body to regress to an earlier developmental stage."
Mike frowns. "Why would that happen?"
"Stress, maybe. Or some kind of trauma." She looks at him directly. "Has Heather seemed different to you lately? Besides the accidents, I mean."
Mike thinks about his sister's thumb-sucking, her increasingly childish speech patterns, the way she's withdrawn from her usual activities. "A little," he admits. "She seems... younger."
His mother nods slowly. "That's what Dr. Lin said might happen. The doctor told me that sometimes, when the regression starts with elimination issues, other childish behaviors follow. It's like part of the mind decides that if the body is acting like a child, other aspects should match."
A chill runs down Mike's spine. The chart isn't just affecting Heather's bladder control; it's rewiring her brain, making her truly become like Mary in ways he never anticipated.
"Is there treatment?" he asks, guilt and fascination warring within him.
"Time, mostly. And understanding." Their mother looks exhausted. "We need to be patient with her, not make her feel ashamed. The doctor says that often makes the regression worse."
Throughout the week, Mike observes Heather carefully, documenting each change in his notebook. The wet diapers continue – three during the day on Tuesday, two on Wednesday. On Thursday, Heather has a messy accident in her diaper while watching cartoons, something that hasn't happened since she was a toddler.
But the physical accidents are just part of the transformation. Heather begins speaking in simpler sentences, her vocabulary shrinking. She sits on the floor to play with Mary's dolls, making up stories in a childish voice. Each night, the thumb-sucking becomes more pronounced, no longer just a nervous habit but a constant source of comfort.
"It's like she's getting younger every day," Samantha whispers to Mike on Friday, watching as Heather colors in a children's coloring book, her tongue poking out in concentration.
"The doctor said it might get worse before it gets better," Mike replies, the words feeling like stones in his mouth. He knows this isn't just going to "get better" – not as long as the chart keeps working its magic.
Meanwhile, Mary's transformation moves in the opposite direction. She stays completely dry all week, proudly announcing her success each day when she returns from kindergarten. Her thumb-sucking habit, previously as entrenched as her bathroom accidents, disappears entirely. She helps with simple chores without being asked, stands straighter, speaks more clearly.
"I can't believe how grown up you're becoming," their mother tells her on Sunday evening, as Mary carefully hangs up her church dress without assistance.
Mary beams at the praise. "I'm a big girl now. Not like Heather."
The casual cruelty of the comment makes their mother wince, but she doesn't contradict it. The evidence is too obvious – eighteen-year-old Heather sits on the living room floor, diaper clearly visible beneath her shorts, playing with plastic blocks while intermittently sucking her thumb.
That night, their mother makes an announcement at dinner. "Mary, since you've been doing so well staying dry during the day, I think you can go without pull-ups this week."
Mary's face lights up with pride. "Really? I can wear regular underwear like Samantha and Mike?"
"During the day, yes." Their mother smiles, genuinely pleased by Mary's progress. "We'll still use pull-ups at night until you've been consistently dry for another week or so."
From her booster seat, Heather makes a small sound – part whimper, part sigh. She's been having trouble using utensils lately, and there's a smear of pasta sauce on her chin. Their mother automatically wipes it away with a napkin, the gesture identical to how she cares for three-year-old Julie.
The contrast between Mary's advancement and Heather's regression couldn't be more stark. And Mike knows, with a certainty that both thrills and terrifies him, that the chart is responsible.
That night, after everyone is asleep, Mike stands before the chart once again. His experiment has confirmed his hypothesis beyond any doubt. The chart's magic is real, powerful, and far-reaching. It doesn't just transfer accidents; it transfers entire developmental stages.
What would happen, he wonders, if he pushed it even further? What if he switched Heather's name with Julie's?
Julie, at three, is still in diapers day and night. She has messy accidents regularly. She wears baby clothes, sleeps in a crib, uses a pacifier, plays with infant toys. If the pattern holds, switching their names would mean...
Mike's hand hovers over the magnets. This is wrong. He knows it's wrong. He's already reduced his teenage sister to the developmental level of a five-year-old. To push her further, to make her like Julie...
But the temptation is too strong. He needs to know what will happen, how far the chart's power extends. And a small, dark part of him enjoys seeing proud, perfect Heather brought low, made to experience the humiliation that he and Samantha endured for so long.
With quick, decisive movements, he removes Mary's name from the chart – she's graduated from daytime pull-ups now, no need to track her – and switches the positions of the magnets labeled HEATHER and JULIE.
The now-familiar sensation washes over him, stronger than ever before. The world seems to shimmer and distort, like he's viewing it through heat waves. For a moment, he fears he might pass out. Then everything stabilizes, though nothing appears visibly different except the chart itself.
Mike returns to bed, wondering what changes the next week will bring.
He doesn't have to wait long to find out. The transformation is rapid and dramatic, as if the chart's magic has gained momentum with each switch. By Tuesday, Heather has stopped speaking in sentences altogether, communicating primarily through single words and gestures. She has messy accidents in her diaper multiple times a day, showing no awareness or concern when it happens.
On Wednesday, their mother finds Heather in Julie's room, attempting to put a pacifier in her mouth.
"Sweetie, that's Julie's," she says gently, trying to take it away.
Heather responds with a full-blown tantrum, throwing herself on the floor and wailing like a toddler. Nothing their mother says can calm her until, desperate and confused, she allows Heather to keep the pacifier.
"I don't understand what's happening," she confides to Mike later, watching as Heather sits placidly on the couch, sucking on the pacifier while watching cartoons. "The doctor said regression, but this is... this is like she's becoming a baby again."
Mike nods, feigning confusion while inwardly marveling at the chart's power. "Maybe you should call the doctor again?"
Their mother does, and a follow-up appointment is scheduled. But before it can take place, things deteriorate further. Heather starts crawling instead of walking, babbling instead of talking. She refuses to use utensils, eating with her hands and making a mess. At night, she cries until their mother lets her sleep in Julie's old crib, which has been in storage since Julie graduated to a toddler bed.
By Sunday, the transformation is complete. Heather wakes up from her nap and soils her diaper during church, completely unaware or unconcerned. She plays with baby toys, fascinated by their bright colors and simple mechanics. The pacifier is now a constant companion, removed only for meals and bath time.
Watching her, Mike feels a twinge of horror beneath his curiosity. He did this. He reduced his sister – a senior in high school, college-bound, independent – to the mental and physical capabilities of a toddler.
Their mother, overwhelmed and baffled, adapts as best she can. She brings down boxes of Julie's outgrown clothes from the attic, dressing Heather in childish outfits that somehow seem to fit despite the height difference. She converts an unused guest room into a nursery, complete with the crib, a changing table hastily repurposed from an old dresser, and baby toys scattered across the floor.
"The doctor says it's a protective mechanism," she explains to Mike and Samantha one evening after Heather has been put to bed. "Her mind is retreating to a safer, simpler time."
Samantha frowns. "But why? Nothing bad happened to her."
Their mother shakes her head, at a loss. "Sometimes these things don't have obvious triggers. The important thing is that we support her while she works through it."
"Will she get better?" Mike asks, guilt choking him.
"I hope so," their mother says, but her tone lacks conviction. "The doctor has referred us to a specialist, but there's a waiting list."
Mike updates the chart faithfully each day, documenting Heather's complete regression while Julie's row fills with smiling suns for staying dry during the day – a new development since the name switch. Just as Mary had adopted Heather's bladder control when their names were switched, Julie is now showing signs of being ready for potty training.
The implications are staggering. Mike could use the chart to help any child overcome bedwetting or daytime accidents. He could transfer the problem to someone else – someone who, like Heather, has already enjoyed years of being accident-free.
And people might pay for that service.
The thought comes to him one night as he lies in bed, contemplating the chart's power. Parents desperate to get their children out of diapers might be willing to pay for a "magical" solution. Ten dollars, maybe more.
Of course, that would mean dooming Heather to living like an infant indefinitely. But couldn't he set aside some of the money for her? A dollar or two from each client, a sort of penance for what he's done to her?
He tries to imagine explaining to his mother someday, when he's finally figured out how to reverse the chart's effects. "I turned Heather into a baby for profit, but I saved some money for her therapy."
Even in his mind, the words sound hollow, inadequate.
Yet the temptation remains. There are so many children struggling with potty training, so many parents at their wits' end. Robin gave him this power for a reason, didn't he? And Robin certainly didn't seem concerned about the consequences when he suggested moving the names around.
Mike thinks about the strange boy with his shifting eyes and too-sharp smile. He had finally found out that Robin’s last name was Goodfellow. Surely, a magical person who was evil would not be named Goodfellow. And if so, what game is he playing?
These questions circle in Mike's mind as he drifts toward sleep. In the morning, he'll need to decide on what to do. Reverse what he's done to Heather and abandon the chart's power, or embrace it fully, consequences be damned.
As consciousness fades, he finds himself leaning toward the latter. After all, he reasons, the damage to Heather is already done. And the chart's magic is too fascinating, too useful to simply walk away from.
The last thought that flickers through his mind before sleep claims him is of Robin's face, watching him move the magnets that first time, a knowing gleam in his ever-changing eyes.
You might not like the results, Robin had warned.
But that wasn't quite right, was it? Because part of Mike – a part he's still learning to recognize – likes the results very much indeed.
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