One thing my kid has always been great at is peeing on people. It all started just after he was born, with him giving every hospital staffer within 4 feet of him a good hosing down. He got me the first night. He got Sara shortly thereafter (I was laughing my ass off…she didn’t share my mirth, but she panicked and was trying to stop the pee stream by holding out her hand like one of the Supremes shreiking “STooOOP”!!). Grandpa Lee? Yup. Baptized him twice the first week. Grandma? She managed to avoid it until Holden was 3 months, but even my wily mom couldn’t outsmart the Bug, and she took a shot straight to the chest as soon as that cool breeze hit him.
My point is that we just couldn’t find a foolproof way to avoid getting peed on 100% of the time. Sneaky lil Bug would wait until we were lulled into a false sense of security and leave him exposed for just that split second and Fshhhhhh… Like the viet-cong of pee, sneaking out of the jungle to ambush the Americans. He was doing it so often it was starting to take the paint off the wall next to the changing table.
These wet, soggy occurences gradually tapered off to the point of not happening, then, as if to remind us not to get too comfortable, he’d let loose with a stream a firefighter would be proud of, and I’d be cleaning off my glasses after getting him into a fresh diaper. It hasn’t happened in a long time now though. Almost too long…like he’s planning the MOTHER OF ALL HOSINGS. Maybe that’s what he’s babbling about in the mornings all alone in his crib. Maybe he’s asking for guidance from the god of pee…planning the Ragnarok of all pissing contests.
Ah well. If I can deal with POO-SPLOSIONS, I can deal with getting pissed on when I get careless. It certainly keeps you on your toes, but I gotta tell you, I’ll forever be glancing at him ocasionally, half expecting to get peed on when I hand him the car keys, or give him his allowance.