Life With Boys

Judah is a very absent minded person. Most of the time this can be compensated for by my constant attention to keep him out of the path of cars, off the feet of other adults and out of the way of small children who might be bowled over if he simply walks right into them

But there are some situations where I cannot help him out much. For example, the bathroom. It's a twenty-to-one shot whether he actually pees INTO the toilet as he gazes vaguely all around the room, or possibly inscribes the arc of Superman's leap across the street from building top to sidewalk in pursuit of the latest villain.

Today, on a lightening-fast trip to the toilet (leaving Jamie unattended longer than 45 consecutive seconds these days is like playing Russian Roulette), I stepped, barefooted (it's Florida, after all) into a huge puddle of pee on the bathroom floor. Pants already unzipped, I splashed right. into. it, my jeans cuffs baptized with the fragrant liquid. I screeched, frantically shaking the drops from my foot, hopped out to the kitchen for a rag and some cleaner and limped back, mom-cursing the whole way. As I bent to mop up the deluge, I realize something...


I wasn't the only one who'd stepped in it.

Gross.

Blaaaaaaaaaaaaaaach.

So I spent the next twenty minutes hands-and-knees crawling around from one mud-pee footprint to another, *spray-wipe-blech*, all around the house.

And while I was down there, I figured I might as well try to scrub off the Sharpie marker Jamie decorated with this morning.