Put the seat up before you pee! Then
put it back down when you
are done!” I said for the MILLIONTH time in
my career as a mom.
Boys and bathrooms...what an adventure! Throughout
my years of raising boys, I have often walked into my bathroom greeted by the lovely aroma of a giant urinal. Now, I’m
not
suggesting that I hadn’t cleaned my
bathroom for weeks and consequently it began to smell. (Well, that DID happen on occasion, and how often,
I’d rather NOT
say. That information is FAR
too incriminating to just hand out.) However, just two days after each time THOROUGHLY scrubbed
my bathroom with bleach, the urinal smell kept returning.
Naturally, I figured out that this
was because my boys all came with their own personal squirt gun. And the
problem is this squirt gun did NOT come with a scope! I have noticed the ability to aim without
a scope is SERIOUSLY limited, and it is crazy WHERE the stream lands. One particular time, I sat on the toilet
seat only to feel a not-so-pleasant
wet sensation against my CHEEKS! Now, considering the fact that I
didn’t have a bidet, my only hope was that a freshly showered kid sat on the
seat with their clean, wet
butt. However, then I remembered that just before I stepped into the bathroom I
was looking at my sweaty,
grubby kids thinking, Eeeeeww, you all need showers,
which shattered ALL
hopes of the wet sensation being a SANITARYone. Then my mind wandered to all the times I had seen my
boys hitting the BACKof
the toilet seat before shifting things downward. It was pretty obvious that,
there I was, SITTING IN LITTLE BOY TINKLE
SPLATTER Yuck!
After I disinfected myself AND the seat, I noticed the puddle that had
collected on the
floor beside the toilet. I was sure THAT wasn’t helping the smell, either. As I washed my hands, I notice my trashcan
had splatter running down the side of it. I tried to convince myself there were
MANY
explanations for that. It could be opening up a pop can after it was dropped...um,
near the toilet? Or, maybe it was a squirt gun fight in the bathroom.
Now THAT is quite probable, only I believe the water would have
evaporated, not turned into a sticky, gross, goo running down the side of my trash
can. SERIOUSLY how do
they get it EVERYWHERE? Well, some of my questions were answered one day while I
was
standing at my vanity doing my hair.
My five-year-old son, Timmy, walked in to go potty. He was fresh out of bed
and, with a yawn, he assumed “the position”. He was actually aiming pretty well
when, midstream…
Find the rest of the story in 2Sisters’ Misguided Manual to Motherhood on Amazon.com
or at a signing near you...Next Book signing at Dwell in Okemos Mi, Noveber 14th. ''
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