Since the dawn of history, man has always been there to answer the call…the call of nature, that is. I imagine that when our forefather Adam first felt that need to relieve himself, he found a nice big tree or hedge of bushes to get behind and take care of business. I’m not real sure that’s exactly how it went because the Holy Scriptures didn’t see fit to give a lot of insight in this area. Eve, on the other hand, probably just held it and complained about the severe lack of indoor plumbing. We’ll most likely never know unless we get a chance to talk to them in Heaven some day.
But my point is, sometimes you’re out in nature and nowhere near a toilet when the urge strikes you. That is why God invented trees and bushes and such. It’s a lesson that has to be taught to your children at some point, and potty training sometimes forces this particular skill to be explored. After all, it’s better to have them pee in the grass than in their underwear. This is how my oldest son first learned that all the world is a toilet.
My father and I were at an air show some years back and had Griffin with us. He was in the midst of potty training, and he let me know that it was time. The problem: there was no bathroom in sight. I found a stand of bushes next to the Interstate and took him to it. He was a little confused at first, but after he got started, he became enamored with the idea of using the bathroom outside. Still to this day, he tries to dream up situations where he can’t make it to the bathroom in time and has to go in the great outdoors.
So, there’s part of me that shouldn’t really be surprised about what happened last Saturday. Tamara and I were in the front yard, working on the flower beds. The boys were alternating between helping us and playing. They had been gone a while when I finally gave up on the liriope I was yanking at and went into the garage. The vehicles had been backed out on to the driveway and by mere chance, my gaze fell across the young ones, crouched down and examining something by the back wheel of our Acadia. “What’s that boys,” I called. Griffin looked up at me and said, “I had to go poop.”
My mouth started working, but there was no sound coming out. After a moment of chewing on air, I was able to focus on one single sentence, “Get in the house.” Yes, my five…nearly six year old boy had stood in the front yard, yanked his shorts down, and dropped an impressive load on our grass. I was mortified. It’s not like we live in the country. Saturday was a pretty day with lots of neighbors outdoors. Yep, lots of people.
Once I got him inside and made sure he had cleaned up, I lectured him good and proper on why the front yard was not appropriate place to cop a squat. Then came the fun part…telling mama. Her reaction was no less glorious than what I expected. There’s a certain measure of satisfaction watching someone else display the same look of horror you had on your face only a few moments before. Griffin took it all in stride until we made it clear that he would be cleaning up the mess. That may have been the turning point for him.
Consequently, it was during this clean up time that the logistics of the whole situation began to work themselves out in my head. “How did you manage to do it without getting any poop on you,” I asked. “I stood,” he replied. A cursory inspection of his shirt and shorts proved out that he did NOT, in fact, manage to poop without getting any on him. “Get back in the house and take your clothes off, you’ve got it all over you,” I told him.
In retrospect, the situation could have been a lot worse. Not quite sure how at this moment, but I suppose there’s a way. I do believe we’ve worked out an understanding, though, so I think we’ll avoid future repeats. At the risk of a totally awful pun, I guess you could say the problem is behind us.
Thank you, I needed that laugh.
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