Trying to write a blog with three little boys as story subjects inevitably produces an overabundance of bodily function themed entries. Today’s is no different.
We have two bathrooms in our house. One of them is haunted. Our downstairs bathroom is occupied by a poltergeist with poor bladder control. This is the only conclusion I can draw other than to accuse Leah of peeing all over the floor. And while she can be territorial, I would not go quite that far.
Every time I enter, I find the corner of the sink vanity and the wall holding a mysterious liquid. Judging from the smell that permeates this room, it has to be urine. But whose?
We have outwardly accused all of our children of poor aim. They all vehemently deny the charges. In recent days, I have taken to peeking around the corner while their backs are turned and their little white bottoms are exposed. I silently wait to pounce on the first urchin who sprays wildly. But it’s nothing but net, baby. Their streams hit the bowl water and ring out like the Bells of St. Mary’s.
So where is this extraneous pee coming from? It has occurred so often now that the pee has started to absorb into particle board of the vanity, creating a permanent urine/faux wood smell. Very pleasant.
It has to be them. It’s only a matter of time before I finally catch one of them playing fireman. I have a penis. I know how much fun it is. So do they. Aidan came running up to me the other day with a beaming smile saying, “Daddy, come see my pee elephant!”
Lo and behold, on the side of our side door steps, Aidan’s personal paintbrush had produced a steaming pachyderm of pee.
My cohorts and I used to sign our names in cursive writing on the tennis courts at camp. But it never occurred to any of us to use our talents to create art. I’d bet the NEA would give Aidan a grant were he to continue producing urine animals. I just hope for his sake that he’s practicing outside.