A potty post for you
I know, dear internet, you are wondering where am I going with this potty post. Let me explain. I am surrounded by toddlers. I have three nieces and nephews who are currently learning where to aim their pisser. And both my best friends are hip deep in potty-seats, potty-songs, and my personal favorite, potty-parties. For those less informed, let me educate you. This is when said parent calls up every person on their speed dial and makes a big fuss when the little darling manages to get something, anything, into the pot. I am beginning to feel like Pavlov's dog, when I hear the bell, I know someone managed to poo.
But being immersed (against my will) in the potty-training culture has brought back memories. Memories, my son, would rather I had never recovered. Memories that I know I will blackmail him with until the day he locks me, kicking and screaming, into some far away, geriatric facility. Memories that I feel the need to share with you, dear internet, because I am a kind and generous Redneck mommy.
It all started on a dark and stormy night. Just kidding. It was warm and sunny out. I was at the kitchen sink, washing yet another load of dishes by hand (damn hubby wouldn't hook up the dishwasher which, to this day, is still collecting dust in the shed.) My freshly potty-trained boy was waking up from his afternoon nap. He wandered into the kitchen, yawning, all warm and fuzzy and slightly disoriented from sleep. I said "Hello Frac, did you have a good nap?" as I rinsed another glass.
Frac didn't answer me. Now this should have rung a few alarm bells, but what can I say? You can't be on red alert all the time. Instead, he opened up the refrigerator and pulled down his pants....While I stood two feet away and watched like a dumbass. You guessed it, dear internet. My dear, sweet, darling boy, whipped it out and peed into the refrigerator.
About mid-stream he figured out the seven foot tall, cool, white box was not the toilet. About the same time I fully comprehended the little pisser was pissing in my fridge. He turned to me. I stepped towards him. And he peed all over my feet.
But I learned a valuable lesson that day. No, dear internet, not the one about making sure the little fella was pointed in the direction of the bathroom after getting up from his nap. The other lesson. The one were I learned urine cleans dry jam off the bottom of the fridge like nothing else. And it's environmentally friendly too!