Monday Funday….The High Price Of Potty Training
When you’re the parent of little kids, the day that they’re potty trained can seem like the best day of your life. No more buying diapers, no more changing diapers, no more smelly diapers…..but as any parent of a big kid knows, all those good things come at a cost.
You see, potty training only means that Little Johnny knows WHERE the pee goes, but he doesn’t magically develop bladder control after he straps on his big boy underwear. No sir. In fact, he really has NO bladder control at all, since he’s spent all of his life just pooping and peeing whenever he got the urge.
And that’s the cost of potty training. Everything you do is suddenly regulated by the bladder control 3 year old.
Wanna drive to a store? Better make sure it’s not too far. Wanna go shopping at a store? Better know where the bathrooms are. Wanna get anything done, ever? Better schedule your chores in fifteen minute intervals…..And by the way, you’ll never know when the 15 minute clock will start and stop.
And the problem gets exponentially worse with every potty trained kid you have. There’s no “running to the bathroom” at the mall with three boys. You can’t leave them outside the bathroom, they don’t all fit in a stall, Little Johnny isn’t tall enough for a urinal, and goodness knows you’re not gonna leave them standing around the bathroom with all the backsplash.
And that was my situation, working in the garage one day with the boys.
PlaysWithFire-Daddy, I’ve gotta pee.
Me-OK, go pee.
PlaysWithFire-Will you come inside with me?
Me-I’m working buddy. Get your brother to go with you.
KicksTheBall-I’ve gotta pee too.
Me-Good, go pee. Everybody go pee.
KicksTheBall & PlaysWithFire-We don’t wanna go inside by ourselves.
Me-(Still working) THEN PEE OUTSIDE.
Me-On the rock….I don’t care.
(I should interject here that there was a rock right beside the garage door, in front of our parked car and next to the A/C unit, where they could pee in complete solitude.)
Me-ReadsTheBooks, show them where the rock is before they pee their pants.
And off they went on their little urination mission. As I worked neighbors driving by honked and waved politely, which isn’t out of the ordinary since I’m such a friendly guy.
But then a car stopped in the street and honked, then pointed at me and laughed hysterically. Well I’m a guy with a sense of humor. I can take a joke and laugh at myself. But me cleaning up a dirty garage isn’t something that’s terribly funny. And thinking about my weird neighbors shocked me out of my garage cleaning state of mind.
And that’s when I realized that I didn’t know where the boys where. Every father’s worst nightmare hit me like a ton of bricks.
I had lost my kids. And my wife would never, ever let me live that down.
(I need to interject again to explain that I’ve always been worried about teenagers speeding down our street and running into part of our front yard. So a few years ago I got some giant limestone rocks and placed them along the street as sort of decorative car-stopper fence.)
I bolted out of the garage into the front yard. And that’s when I realized that my neighbors hadn’t been honking at me.
Standing around a large limestone rock in our front yard, five feet from a busy street on a beautiful Saturday afternoon, were three boys. With their pants and underwear down around their ankles, all laughing and seeing who could pee the most on a rock.
Me-What are y’all doing?!?
ReadsTheBooks, PlaysWithFire & KicksTheBall-Peeing on the rock.