The Chronicles of Life with a Two-Year-Old Boy

I told him not to do it, but does Mr. P listen to me? Nooooooo. He thought it would be great fun to teach my sweet innocent boy that boys are 'equipped' in such a way as to make a trip inside the house to use the bathroom unnecessary. Any tree, bush or other patch of brush will suffice nicely. When you teach a boy that he can do his tinkling outside, you're bound to run into trouble at some point.

Think of the family reunion at the lake when such a boy as mine might walk to the end of the pier and announce to 98-year-old Aunt Mable that she should look at the arch he can make and how far he can 'shoot'. Aunt Mable might have a coronary and who's fault would that be?

Mr. P's, of course.

Or think about the neighbors that already think us rather freakish for having chickens and six children. What if they catch a precocious two year old 'watering' their prize winning roses? You can see where I'm going with this.

So, was it any surprise that yesterday my boy was on the third floor of our house, in the window seat of his sister's room, talking to daddy through the open window? No, happens all the time. They were talking and telling each other hello, my boy way up high which he thinks is pretty wonderful.

That's when she heard it. Flibby, working diligently on a blog design or some such something, heard the tell-tale sounds of tinkling. She spun around to see my boy, Thomas the Tank Engine underpants around his ankles, 'watering' the bushes through the screen on her window shouting, "Look Daddy! I'm tee teeing on the bushes way up high!"

So, proud was he. So, mortified was she.

Somehow I think this is only the beginning.