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MidReal Story
The Boyfriend Clause
Scenario:a single mom and her son Tyler he is 2 years old and his mom hates potty training and think it useless and a waste of time and a lot of freedom and you are Tyler not the mom and there's no dad
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Tyler
first_person_protagonist, male. He is a 2yearold toddler. He is curious, energetic, and determined. Tyler enjoys playing with cars and trucks, fixing things, and learning new things. He loves his mom and misses her when she leaves. He hates potty training and wants to wear diapers instead. He enjoys swimming and going to the beach with his mom. He struggles with tantrums but learns from them. He is learning to ride a tricycle and loves playing outside.
Emma
side_character, female. She is Karen's 3yearold daughter. She is cheerful, confident, and playful. Emma easily uses the potty and wears dresses instead of diapers. She enjoys spending time with her friend Tyler and engages in fun activities like building sandcastles at the beach. Emma’s ability to use the potty effortlessly impresses Mandy, making her consider changing Tyler’s diaper habit despite his struggles with tantrums.
Karen
side_character, female. She is a mother attending a playdate with Mandy and her daughter Emma. She is supportive, practical, and encouraging. Karen uses the potty with ease and believes it's an essential part of growing up. She helps Mandy see the value of potty training through her own positive experiences with Emma. Karen offers advice and reassures Mandy about the importance of teaching children important life skills despite their challenges.
I am two years old.
I hate potty training.
My mom doesn’t like trying to get me to use it either.
She thinks it’s a waste of time and that it is useless.
She says I will go when I am ready, and that I won’t be ready until I am ready.
I don’t know what that means, but I know it has something to do with the potty.
I don’t like the potty.
I like diapers.
Diapers are nice and free me to play without having accidents.
Accidents are bad.
My mom gets mad when I have accidents, but she doesn’t yell at me or scold me very much.
She laughs and says it’s okay, that it’s no big deal.
I like my mom.
She is funny and nice and never makes me feel bad when I have accidents.
I wish my dad were here to see me, but he isn’t.
My mom says he had to go away, but she didn’t say why he went away or where he went.
I am playing with my favorite toy truck in the living room.
It is a red truck with a flatbed and I like to put my other toys on it and push it around.
My mom is at the table typing on her computer.
She isn’t looking at me.
My tummy starts to feel funny.
I know what that means, but I don’t want to stop playing with my truck to go potty.
I keep pushing my truck across the carpet, but my tummy gets funnier and funnier.
The pressure builds up inside me until I can’t stand it anymore.
I stop pushing my truck and stand up, but my legs feel funny too.
I don’t want to use my diaper right now, but the potty is all the way in the bathroom and I don’t think I can make it in time.
My face gets hot and I squeeze my legs together, but it’s too late.
My legs are shaking as I try to stay standing, but the pressure is too much.
I look at Mom typing away at her desk, then at the hallway leading to the bathroom.
The bathroom door looks so far away, like when I’m trying to reach the cookies on the high shelf.
My tummy hurts more now.
I drop down into a squat position next to my red truck, my favorite shorts stretching against my knees.
The carpet feels soft under my feet as I grip my truck tightly, my knuckles turning white.
My face scrunches up as the pressure becomes unbearable.
I grip my truck tighter, my knuckles turning white against the red plastic.
The carpet scratches against my legs as I shift my weight, trying to find a comfortable position in my squat.
My diaper feels snug and warm against my skin.
I know I should get up and try for the bathroom, but my legs won’t move.
Instead, I lean forward slightly, pressing my free hand against my tummy.
The familiar sensation builds as my body takes over.
My muscles tense and relax as I start pushing, feeling the warmth spread in my diaper.
My face burns hot as I feel my body give in completely.
The pressure becomes too much, and I can’t stop what’s happening.
My legs shake in their squatting position while I grip my truck tighter, its hard plastic edges digging into my palms.
A soft grunt escapes my throat as my muscles push against my will.
The mess spreads warm and sticky inside my diaper, making me feel heavy and uncomfortable.
I want to cry, but I hold back the tears, focusing instead on the bright red paint of my truck.
Mom keeps typing at her computer, not noticing my struggle.
I stand up slowly, my legs still shaky and the full diaper sagging between them.
The warm mess feels gross against my skin, making each step awkward as I waddle toward the bathroom.
My truck drops from my hand onto the carpet as I focus on walking.
The bathroom door is open, showing the white potty that looks so big and scary.
I pause in the doorway, then reach down to grab the sides of my diaper.
My fingers fumble with the sticky tabs as I try to pull them loose.
The diaper slides down my legs, landing in a heap on the bathroom floor.
I waddle into the bathroom, my legs still shaky from what just happened.
The big white potty doesn’t look so scary now that I really need to go again.
My tummy feels different this time, like water wanting to come out.
I look around and see the plastic step stool Morgan got me.
I drag it over in front of the potty and climb up onto it.
It feels wobbly under my feet, but I manage to turn around and sit down on the potty seat.
It’s cold on my bare skin, and I grip the sides of the potty with both hands.
My feet dangle off the step stool, and my bladder feels full and tight.
My heart pounds in my chest as I sit there, the cold potty seat making my skin tingle.
The bathroom feels quiet except for the sound of my quick breathing.
My legs dangle from the step stool, and I wiggle my toes to stay balanced.
The pressure in my bladder grows stronger, making me squirm on the potty seat.
I can’t hold it in anymore, and I close my eyes tightly as my body lets go.
I hear the tinkle of pee hitting the water below, echoing off the toilet bowl.
It makes me a little nervous, but I keep going.
I grip the sides of the toilet seat tighter as my tummy cramps again.
The pressure builds inside me, making me lean forward.
My feet press harder against Morgan's step stool to keep steady.
I squeeze my muscles, trying to push like I did before in my diaper, but the potty feels different - scary and open beneath me.
My face scrunches up with effort as I push harder.
The stool wobbles under my feet, making me grab the toilet seat even tighter.
My legs start shaking as I continue straining, but nothing happens yet.
I lean forward on the toilet seat, my hands gripping the sides so tight they turn white.
My tummy hurts worse now as I push with all my strength.
The step stool wobbles beneath my feet, making me grab the seat even harder.
I grunt and strain, feeling my face get hot and sweaty.
My legs shake from the effort while I keep pushing.
The pressure in my tummy builds until it feels like it might explode.
I squeeze my eyes shut and push one more time, hearing a small splash in the water below.