When you’re three, the world is your toilet.
It all started when we were potty training. I was so pleased that my son gave me any notice at all before weeing, I was happy for him go pretty much wherever we were. Needs must and all that. But now, despite his much improved bladder control, he still feels he has a licence to wee at all times and in all places.
Got a licence to wee.
- In the middle of the park. Not discreetly behind a tree. Right there by the swings.
- On the pavement. Not in the gutter behind an open car door as I’ve possibly encouraged him to in the past.
- On his clothes. Bless his little cottons, sometimes he still has a misfire even when he’s standing by the loo.
- By the schoolgate – I caught him in time but he was all ready to go.
- With his brothers. I have three boys, and now the youngest has joined the standing-up wee gang, they do like to all go together.
- On his brothers…I still can’t tell whether it was deliberate.
- On the closed lid of the loo. So close yet so far.
- In the middle of the beach. “No! I meant in the sea,” I cry as he stands right up on the sand and does his wee. Or he’ll be in the sea but remain standing: “Crouch down darling!” I’ll half-cry, half-laugh.
- In the bath. Standard. I defy anyone with boys to claim their child never gets in the bath and goes “aaaah” – despite there being a perfectly good loo right there next to it.
- And his favourite, pants down, on mummy’s foot, hand, scarf – whatever is in the line of fire.
But you know what, although I, of course, try to limit his overly public pees for hygiene’s sake, he’s only three. When a boy’s gotta go a boy’s gotta go.
Nothing beats an alfresco wee.
What’s the funniest / most embarrassing place your toddler has weed?