and in other news...

This is my son. Chicken. Wearing a swaddle blanket as a sarong. 

And Peeing. On a little nest he made of four blankets.

"Oh no!" He said.

Still peeing. Oh, that yellow one is a handmade quilt my mom, sisters, and grandmothers created for him.

"Ooooh NO!" He said again, louder.

Yep, still going.

I mean, what's a mom to do?

A) yell at your kid for not having spontaneously potty trained himself, shaming him for his basic bodily functions, violating his trust in you and in the fundamental security and comfort of his world, and digging an irreversible chasm deep into the ground between you forever.

B) pick him up while he's still peeing to put a towel down, and in so doing inadvertently remind him that it is possible to run in circles around the room and pee on everything that is at or below penis height. We will call that the splash zone.

C) agree. "Oh no!" Wait until he's done and strap a diap on. Finish reading his story. Give him fourteen kisses, liken your love of him to the size of a hundred fire trucks, and turn out the light. Do laundry. 


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