The Padawan Becomes the Master

Here's the thing about little kids: Once they figure something out, they think they're the foremost expert on the subject moving forward.  Rosaline has juuuust begun to potty train; as in, she's gone to freshman orientation and one frat party but  has not had a single lecture hall moment yet.  But apparently she already knows everything and is now dean in the potty department.  Yesterday morning, as we're preparing to leave for a busy day, I tell Gina I need a few moments to use the restroom before we leave.  Unfortunately, Rosaline overheard this.  She starts yelling at me and pulling me by the hand towards the downstairs restroom.  She then sets up the potty training seat on the toilet and tells me I need to sit on it.  When I try and remove it she warns me that I'll fall in.  I use a quick slight of hand and slide it to the side as I sit down. ... she notices but let's me off with a cross glance.  She then stands in front of me and "walks" me through the proper form of doing a "khakha".  She bows her legs out, as though riding a horse, clenches her fist and grunts loudly.  She then motions for me to try.  I stare at her blankly in disbelief at which she frustratingly repeats the process only more exaggerated this time.  I comply.  She then applauds and tells me I'll get an M&M all the while tearing off a large amount of toilet paper, then fighting past me to attempt to wipe my backside.  I realise I'm a 230lb man and she's not even two yet; but she's pretty forceful.  At this point I'm screaming for Gina to please come remove the potty police so I can do what I need to do and get on with my day.  As she's dragged from the room and the door is slowly closing behind her, I swear to god she locks eyes on me like a warning; if I don't do this correctly she's going to come after me with all the power of grayskull. ... no pressure.