Last Saturday we went to a surprise dinner. Everyone in our church was assigned to a group and you showed up to someone's home not knowing who was going to be there. Our group was a hit. We reconnected with some, met others for the first time, and ate delicious barbecue. Brian and I left saying that was really fun!
But let's rewind to the middle of the dinner. We were outside eating, visiting, laughing. Kids were running around the yard entertaining themselves. Then we heard a commotion amongst the children, a few sounds of disgust coming from the older girls. Out of the corner of my eye I found the cause. I sat shocked for a millisecond as my brain processed that my son's pants were down, his little pot belly stuck out as he leaned back, and an impressively large arc of pee was spraying out into the middle of the yard.
I jumped up from the table and ran to him but my intervening did nothing to salvage our dignity.
Oh, um Silas! Sweetie, we don't pee outside. I see confusion in his face. Well, we only pee outside at our house. He feels the need to clarify. Mommy, we pee pee and poo poo outside at my house. Yes, that's right. Clearing my throat, so thankful for his thoroughness. But, Silas, when we are at someone else's house we only go potty in the toilet. Everyone graciously laughed and I informed our host that her lawn had been christened.
But yeah that's right people. Our potty training son pees outside and on particularly constipated occasions is allowed to poop outside. Something about being out in nature gets his bowels moving. And when he hasn't pooped in six days, desperate times call for desperate measures. I just hope the neighbors understand that when they look over and see our naked son walking around dropping baby ruths.