The other night, Baby and Middle were taking a bath. I was
But I had to pee. So I lifted the lid, pulled down my drawers, and started to tinkle.
(There is no such thing as privacy in the Trenches.)
As I was mid-stream, Baby peered up at me with big brown eyes boring into mine and questioned, "Momma, why d'you pee outta yer butt?"
(Think of this from a 3 year old boy's perspective. A pretty legit question, isn't it?)
Caught (WAY) off guard (and laughing hysterically in my head), I responded, "Errr...I don't."
"Yes you do."
Me: "Hey, I have an idea! Let's play a really fun bath game right now!"
I was upstairs folding laundry when I heard Hubby bellowing below. He was reprimanding Middle for having wet jeans. Apparently Middle had been having so much fun playing outside that he seemingly forgot to take a pee break. Yet the entire time Hubby was scolding him, Middle kept insisting, "But I DIDN'T pee in my pants! I DIDN'T!"
So Middle marched upstairs to me to change his clothes. He obviously had wet himself. There was a huDge wet circle in the front of his jeans.
"But I didn't pee in my pants, Mom!"
"Middle! Daddy and I aren't blind, buddy. Your jeans are soaked. You peed in them! You just have to remember to stop playing and use the potty before you have an accident, okay? Now hand me your wet clothes."
Off came the soaking wet jeans.
Off came the underwear.
They were dry. Totally dry.
He looked up at me.
"I told you I didn't pee IN my pants. I peed ON my pants. I was watering a tree outside and my pants got in the way."
P.S. We tell the boyz to go "water a tree" so they don't just whip it out in the middle of the front yard. Because we're high class like that.