He blushed and said, "That was a freak acident." He looked around for a key, not seeing anything. "Wheres the key," He asked, growling. He was trying to act scary, but his soaked pants ruined any chance of that.

Sarah giggled. "Sure," she teased. "The freak had an accident. I've known you for like an hour, and you already had an accident. Why would I believe that this isn't common, potty-pants?"

He groaned and face-palmed himself. He sighed and said, "Well, fine then. What do you suggest I do then?" He was hating this situation now, and didn't know what to do, or why she seemed to be enjoying his humilation so much.

"Well, since you apparently aren't potty trained, maybe we should put you back in training pants until you learn to use the potty," Sarah teased, snickering.

He growled, "I can use the potty. I just, um, messed up this one time. Urg," He moaned loudly, rubbing his hands through his hair. "Can't you just be agreeable and open this door for me?"

"See?" Sarah giggled. "You don't even call it the toilet, you call it a potty!" She snickered. "You really *are* in potty training, aren't you? I bet you're wearing training pants already."

He turned bright red, and said, "No, of course not. Argh," He growled. "Just let me in the bathroom." He growled at her, getting a little pissed off. She was manipulating his words.

Molly giggled. "Not until you show me your wet training pants, okay? Do that, and I'll go get mom's key for the bathroom." She was planning something, of course.

He growled at her. "I'm not wearing training pants ok," He said bright red. Then, just to shut her up, he pulled down the front of his pants, revealing his soaking wet red boxers to her.

"Well until I see you in some wet training pants, that door's not gonna open!" She giggled sadistically. "You clearly need 'em, even if you're not wearing any right now."