um, let’s say you walk in the living room to find your adorable 3 year old son with his pants down to his ankles, peeing on the coffee table–right on your favorite art book, presumably ruining it.
do you:
a. gasp, then clutch your chest in true fred sanford fashion.
b. applaud his efforts yelling, “bravo. bravo!”
c. critique his performance, pointing out the places he missed.
d. pretend you don’t notice what’s happening, u-turn, and head toward the wine cabinet.
or,
e. kill him with your bare hands.
after careful consideration, i chose option a. well, actually, it was my first reaction. i all but lost my faculties. and i couldn’t breathe. when he noticed me standing there convulsing and foaming at the mouth, he laughed and pointed at me, squealing, “mommy funny. mommy terning gween.”
i was finally able to catch my breath, help the man pull up his pants, then spent the next 30 minutes getting the vile urine (which strangely enough smelled like harvest spice potpourri) off the coffee table (well, the urine that didn’t soak into the wood–nice–it sucked it up like a sponge). the book? i’m afraid it fought a tough battle, but sadly, it never saw the enemy coming, so it never really had a chance.
and the man responsible for all this? is still pointing and laughing at me. and continues to dance around singing, “i got a penis,” while playing air guitar.
please send help.
{ 10 comments… read them below or add one }
My friend’s son at 3 years old peed in her Lazy Susan.
Thought that might make you feel better..or maybe not!
I think you should have applauded his efforts.
Kids need to be lifted up.
Next time he pees on your furniture, try patting him on the back and saying, “well done.”
Too funny.
Aren’t little boys the best?!
What’s up with the fragrant pee?
I think the pee aroma may have roots in pinot grigio?
Any chance he got in the stash?
By the way, the peeing and subsequent ruining of important and sentimental personal assets is not limited to 3-year-olds.
At the tender age or 30, a good buddy of mine got home (taxi-ed actually) after a night of going-away-party punch in our great downtown of Fort Worth. What he ignored is that the next morning his friend-girl was to depart to Georgia on business. An organized person she was, and her Louis Vuitton luggage was packed and ready to go by the front door for an early drive to the airport.
After stumbling and feeling around for doors, shorts, etc., he decided he needed one more bladder-emptying ceremony, which led him to the conundrum of, “Where’s the toilet?”
Soon enough, he let ‘er rip, splashing the remnants of about four gallons of Miller Light in what he thought was the proper venue for such an event.
Hours later, his soon-to-be ex, awoke to shower and coffee, thinking all she had to worry about was her ride to the airport.
As she approached her LV luggage for some final pack-ins, she was aghast…no…completely terrified and disgusted that it was soaked in yellow, watery waste.
Soaked was the carpet surrounding, her shoes-to-wear, and part of her briefcase, which absorbed some of the splash.
The call to me came in at about 9 a.m. Hung over and defeated, he simply asked, “Can I spend the night at your place today? I need to find a new apartment today, also.”
Ah, he’s learning so quickly.
I am impressed AND proud.
Give him a pat on the back for me?
Oh, and save me some of the wine??? lol
Have you considered peeing on one of his books?
Hahaha…
you just brought back memories from about 9 yrs ago when Ismail opened the oven door, stood on it, dropped trou and whizzed on the heating element.
He was 1.
It was all downhill from there.
Keep laughing. It helps to keep you sane…or at least to fake you’re sane!
what a funny kid.
ahhh, yes… i remember the fold days of pee pee around my house. trust me, you WON’T miss it!
God knew what she was doing when she gave me daughters. I don’t know what you did to deserve her wrath. Poor you. (She said with no sympathy whatsoever.)