If By “Toilet” You Mean…

Before we begin, if you are underwhelmed by potty humor, you might want to move along.

If, however, you are the parent of a small child – especially of the male gender – welcome. This is a safe place. Solidarity, my friend.

So…

I’ve been under the assumption my three year old is potty trained. 

I have believed for the past few months that he was taking himself to the bathroom when he needed to go potty.

Now that I know the truth, I long for the days of naiveté. 

Ignorance is bliss, isn’t it?

I caught him a few days ago with his underwear around his ankles and a Halloween candy bucket covering his junk.

“Uh…what are you doing?” I asked.

“Oh, just going pee in here.” he said casually, as if I’d applaud his creativity.

(I didn’t.)

“We don’t pee in buckets.” I said, hoping it was the one and only time I’d say that sentence.

(It wasn’t.)

Yesterday my oldest handed a plastic cup full of yellow liquid and said, “I think my brother peed in my water.”

SERIOUSLY?!

“We don’t pee in cups either.” I instructed.

“Otay.” he said.

I wish this was the end of the story.

But, no.

Last night, after putting all my little angels to bed, I settled into The Chair They Aren’t Allowed to Touch with a book, a mug of hot tea, and my favorite fall candle.

I pulled the top off the candle to light it and noticed that the wax hadn’t fully hardened from the last time I burned it a few days ago.

“How is this wax still wet?” I thought. “Is this jar really that heat proof? They should expand their market from just candle containers if so. Also, what is that smell? Why does it smell faintly of…..”

OH. MY. ACTUAL. HEAVENLY. GOODNESS. GRACIOUS. ALMIGHTY.

The liquid was not melted wax. It was…wait for it…pee.

Urine. In my candle.

To recap, one of the children I have birthed and clothed and fed took the lid off of my favorite fall candle, peed in the jar, replaced the lid, and continued on living.

I have never been more offended in my entire life.

People get arrested for stuff like this!! It’s called public urination, and now that I’m thinking about it, I might actually start filing reports because 5 years in a maximum security prison might do us some good right about now.

Or boarding school.

Do they make boarding school for preschoolers? Asking for a friend.

I mean…COME ON, tiny human brains.

I feel like I was a little unprepared as a mom of boys for how many times I would reference their dude parts. Specifically, how much instruction I would need to provide that, contrary to popular belief, a penis is not the swiss army knife of body parts. 

It is not a paint brush, it is not a sword. It is not a shovel, it is not a pet. It is not a toy, it does not need a hat.

It does not pee in buckets, it does not pee on my patio. It does not pee in cups, it does not pee in candles.

It is simply not as much of a multipurpose tool as they believe it to be.

No one prepared me for those kinds of directives – all of which have come out of my mouth at some point or another.

So, yeah.

Don’t worry about us, you guys. We’re doing awesome over here.

Just, you know, learning one surprise defilement at a time that our toddler is about 30% potty trained, 70% trained to use whatever container is closer than the toilet.