I See The Future and It Is Yellow

Ian had a couple of night-time peeing accidents just before our trip to Washington D.C.-- he is a very sound sleeper-- and we were worried that after a long day of sight-seeing, he would be unable to wake up to urinate and thus cause major grief with the hotel staff, so we convinced him to wear a pull-up diaper at night . . . I told him that even some adults need to wear diapers and this logic worked like a charm . . . in fact he repeated this to Alex several times, "Even some grown-ups wear diapers!" and he put his diaper on without resistance or shame . . . and this worries me: fifteen years in the future he'll be the one suggesting to his friends that they have a "Depends Party."

Poop and Sensitivity

On the same day that my six year old son Alex wrote and illustrated a book called My Family (which had a page for every person in the family: Daddy, Mom, Grand-dad, Uncle Eddie, and even my brother Chris, who died several years ago in a car accident) on this very same day that he made my wife cry with this book, and on the same day that my five year old son Ian illustrated his own book-- a book full of scary monsters drawn with loving care and detail . . . on this very same day of creativity and sensitivity, on this same day my children would also-- while my wife was printing photos to put in Alex's aforementioned wonderful book-- these same wonderful boys would come across a couple of old diapers, diapers they were out of long enough to remember them humorously and reminiscently, and in a fit of depraved nostalgia, put the diapers on, simultaneously defecate and urinate in them, laugh hysterically, and then toss the evidence of this scatological prank into the bathroom waste basket, for me to discover when I went to check on them-- because they were so quiet; at the top of the stairs I smelled something awful and wondered what it could be and finally-- with no help from the giggling perpetrators-- found the soiled diapers stuffed into the bathroom waste basket . . . all on the very same day.

It's Hard to Pee Standing Up

This morning I observed how the apple doesn't fall far from the tree: my son Alex came out of our bathroom and said proudly, "I got all the pee in the toilet" but then he couldn't leave his story at that, and so he elaborated . . . "well, actually, I was getting some on the side so then I pulled it over a little so it was hitting the water but then it was going too low, so I had to move it up a little higher, and THEN I got it all in," and, just when I thought the tale was complete, he said, "and guess what?"-- which has become his signature phrase-- "I didn't flush!"

8/23/2009

My son Ian, who loves the water and has a different swimming stroke for every animal (the caterpillar, the whale, the shark, the squid) often stays in too long, until his bladder is about to burst, but the kiddie bathroom is a bit dirty for his taste, so he insists on putting his crocs on before he goes, which makes for some good comedy . . . watching a kid who has to pee put shoes on, and yesterday, while we watched, Catherine yelled some encouragement: "hold it, hold it" and Ian looked at her and followed her instructions, literally, and grabbed his crotch.

Peeing Etiquette and a Peeing Paradox

A woman in our department (Kristyna) is pregnant with her first child-- and it's a boy-- and she's definitely the feminine type, so I was giving her some tips on how to raise boys (always be developing their reflexes, constantly challenge them to physical contests, emphasize competition, compliment them on feats of flatulence and gluttony, stress the importance of athletics over intelligence, etc.) but the one thing she said her boy would never do is "pee on a tree"-- because it seems my boys, if they are more than seven yards from a bathroom, find it completely appropriate to drop their pants and water whatever flora is available; this led to a debate about when to and who can pee on a tree, someone claimed that if you let your kids pee on trees once they are over the age of eleven, then you are a degenerate, but I pointed out that if you drive over to Metuchen Country Club and wander onto the golf course, then you'll find well-to-do men over the age of eleven peeing all over the trees.

It's a Playground Not a Pee Ground

Conflict at the playground: Ian was involved in some kind of incident with a long-haired boy (who I mistakenly called a girl) but his mom and some other woman sorted it out so I didn't pay much attention (I was juggling a soccer ball) until three minutes later when I heard the woman loudly remarking to her friend "but that father just kept playing with his ball while his boy was blocking the step and when I said 'Excuse me, Nicholas wants to get through here' to him he grabbed both posts and wouldn't let go" and so I walked over and said, "You know I can hear you, and I don't like to intercede all the time with the kids, and if you've got something to say you can say it to me" and she said, "If I have something to say to you I will" and then went back to talking to her friend about the consequences of allowing "aggressive behavior" but I found an ally in the other mother that was there-- she came over and made a point to tell me how much she appreciated Alex playing with her son (who had some social problems because he was on the autistic side-- but, if pressed, Alex will socialize with a fence post) and I was starting to feel better about myself as a parent, until Alex ran over and yelled "Ian peed on the mulch" and I realized my rule about being able to pee on a tree if we're outside had backfired, because now Ian was peeing on the metal post of the jungle gym, and then minutes later, sensing weakness in the long-haired boy he had bullied (who I must say, was a head taller and probably a year older than him) Ian slid down the slide and knocked him into the mulch-- but I don't think it was the same mulch that he peed on . . . and while I was discipling Ian for sliding with malicious intent (which he is normally allowed to do, with is brother . . . but considering) Alex was introducing his new friend to tree-peeing, but they were not hidden in the woods-- they were only a couple yards off the playground, so I'm sure that all these moms think I'm raising savages.

Alex Tries to Bar the Door

This morning, Alex decided that he loved my company so much that he was going to bar the door so that I couldn't leave for work-- but after thirty seconds, he looked at me and said in his toughest voice, "I'm going to pee really fast, don't you dare leave" and then he sprinted to the bathroom.

How Do You Spell The Plural of Mississippi?

I had to urinate for the majority of our hellish ninety minute ride to Queens last weekend, and by the time I got into the bathroom my bladder was ready to rupture, so I decided to count how long the stream lasted (without trying to extend the time by constricting the flow) and I urinated for 63 "Mississippis"-- and to put that in perspective, I had to whiz pretty badly yesterday after teaching three classes in a row and it lasted 20 "Mississippis."