Before we went on vacation, I sat down my son for a chat. You see, we live in the country. Five acres are our very own, and our neighbors aren’t close enough to see what goes on in our yard. It’s grand. When I started potty training Pierce, I encouraged him to pee in the yard. Anywhere but in his pants.
He found joy in watering the weeds. Perfect. Far better than in his pants. We’ve had a long list of embarrassing accidents with his backside. Like the time he taught me that while cute, boxer shorts are not all-containing. Or when he left a wordless note for the UPS man. I thought we were past that. But a few weeks ago, when I saw him watering the flowers at the park, we had to have a chat about exactly where it is and is not appropriate to pee out of doors. So, in preparation for our trip to the cousins who live in town, and to a campground that, while we were “roughing it”, it still had plenty of people nearby who would not appreciate him in his nakedness, we talked about not peeing outside in Michigan. At all. In fact, since I’ve read a plethora of weird laws still on the books in Michigan, I’m certain peeing outside is not an acceptable practice.
So. Dear boy, no peeing outside in Michigan. At all. Ever.
Unless he sneaked around me, and I do not think this is possible considering the 80 eyes of relatives nearby who would have reported the sight, no peeing out of doors happened.
Score one for Momma. I cannot believe we pulled that off. We’ve come and gone, having left Michiganders thinking we’re civilized.