Ivy and the Wobbly Stool

Ivy wanted to use the big potty all by herself, just like her brother Tom.

It sat in the corner of the bathroom, round and red like a ladybird. Ivy had on her new spotty pants. She did not want them wet.

"I'm ready," she said.

She sat down. She waited. Nothing happened.

"Maybe it's shy," said Mum from the doorway. Mum had a basket of towels to fold. She was only there for the towels.

Ivy wriggled. The potty went squeak. Ivy giggled, and the giggle made her wriggle more. Squeak, squeak, squeak! But still nothing came.

"I'll try the bathroom the long way," said Ivy. She hopped off, ran down the hall, round the sofa, past the cat, and back again. That was a lot of running. Then she felt a funny tickle low in her tummy.

"Oh!" said Ivy. "Oh, oh, oh!"

She ran fast. But her foot bumped the little wobbly stool, and it went tumbling. Bang! The stool lay on its side with its legs in the air.

Ivy stopped. The potty was right there. The tickle was getting bigger.

"Is it the right way?" she whispered. She looked at the stool. She looked at the potty. Then she noticed something. The stool was lying where her path was. She could step over it, or she could go round.

Ivy took a big, big step. Over the stool she went, one leg, then the other.

She pulled down her spotty pants. She sat on the red potty. Squeak.

And then it came, with a tiny trickle sound, like rain on a window.

"Mum!" Ivy shouted. "I did it! I did it by myself!"

Mum put down a towel and clapped her hands, softly, so as not to wake the cat.

Ivy sat very still. The potty was warm underneath her. Down the hall, the cat gave one long stretch and began to purr.