Hold it

Today, as I was folding laundry, I looked out of my laundry room window to see Sam glance quickly over each shoulder, then calmly proceed to drop his pants and pee into the bushes. In my front yard. In the middle of a sunny Saturday afternoon. Other than the 6 or so inches of wood and drywall between us, we were nearly face to face.

I banged on the window and gave him my sternest, most shocked mama look. He panicked, pulled up his pants, and promptly proceeded to list his excuses. "But Mo-om. I really had to go." Seriously? The 10 or so additional steps it would have taken to actually relieve yourself like a civilized human being were just insurmountable?

And then I remembered a long ago night with this boy's father. A night on which we were driving home from a night of drinking. A night on which, just one block from my cousin's house, we pulled over so my beloved could pee on a tree in the front yard of a stranger.

I'm not saying its okay. I'm just saying there is something about boys, bushes, and genetics that I perceive I will be powerless to thwart...