My youngest might finally, agonizingly slowly, be approaching ready to use the potty. Perhaps soon it can stop being the potty, though once you've called it that for so long, it's hard to stop.
So back to the boy. Momma was brushing her teeth at the time, while I was on the computer. I heard an Aaaarggh and a swear (she actually said fooey, but that's so out of place in this house, to use a safe swear.) I went back immediately, knowing momma was busy and might appreciate some help.
The boy, deciding to use the potty, had climbed aboard fully clothed, and proceeded to dunk his butt in the water. Momma was a little irritated by this sudden turn, but I was there to take over, remove the pants, calm the boy, place the step stool. I personally was able to see the humor in the situation.
Upon leaving the laundry room where I'd dropped off the wet butt britches, I told big brother the story of the wet butt. He has a good sense of humor. He appreciates a good laugh. Instead, I got sweetness.
His answer to my story was, "Poor guy."