When you ask a little kid if they need to go potty, 9 out of 10 times they’ll say no. Even when their bladder is entering its fourth trimester.

You see, kids aren’t on speaking terms with the call of nature and can’t be bothered with boring bathroom breaks. It probably doesn’t help that they were very recently carefree, mobile “lemonade” dispensers in diapers, where they could conveniently release the tinkle when and where they pleased.

Once potty training begins, and for a long time after, a kid will stubbornly resist trips to the toilet as if it were some cruel and unusual punishment. It’s your job to see passed their waterfall of lies about not needing to go.

There is a key indicator an adult can use to tell if a kid needs to go. It evolves through various stages, though not always in this exact order, as the need to pee increases. It is…

The Pee Pee Dance

Are you okay?

“Yeah I’m fine,” they casually lie as they fidget and wiggle to some silent song.

Do you need to go potty?

“No no no. I already peed lots before,” they unsuccessfully try to reassure you.

Wait. What was that? You just shivered. Pee pee chills?

“I was just wiggling. I like to wiggle sometimes,” they casually brush it off.

Seriously? Are you SURE you don’t need to pee?

“Uh-uh!” they blurt, but at this point your parental Spider-sense isn’t tingling, it’s electrocuting you.

C’mon, let’s go to the bathroom.

“No no. See? I stopped!” they try to say smoothly.

It really looks like you need to pee. Let’s go, just in case.

“I won’t be able to! I do NOT have to pee!” they squeak angrily.

Let’s go to the bathroom now, before you hurt yourself.

“Nuh-nuh-nuh nope! No no nuh-nope-itty nope!” they add, almost like hip hop lyrics to their frantic freestyle moves.

Okay, you’re starting to shake the floor. Let’s go!

“I don’t need to go! I just!… need!… to keep moving!” they shout, breathing heavy and starting to sweat.

YOU’RE COMING WITH ME NOW.

“CAN’T! TOO BUSY EXERCISING!!!” they shriek wildly, now a blur in front of you.

One of two things will probably happen at this point: 1) it’ll already be too late and they’ll soak themselves, or 2) when you get to the toilet, they’ll be completely and mysteriously dry and won’t be able to go. You KNOW they needed to go though, so you’ll leave with the grim resolve that they’re a ticking urine bomb waiting to blow at any second.

Sigh.

Maybe kids wouldn’t put up such a fight if we hadn’t named them “restrooms” and “bathrooms.” Last time I checked, resting and baths weren’t tops on most kids’ lists of favorite things.