Blowing in the wind

Being the mother of a boy and being an only child of a single mother, there are certain things about boyness of which I am uncertain. Primarily, little boys and their willies.

While potty training is almost complete, a new challenge has come upon us, one which I have watched other mothers preform in parking lots and in parks, with admiration and wonder: peeing outside. Whereas up until yesterday, if my son needed to pee when we were outdoors, he would invariably let loose, soaking his pants and underwear. Perhaps having done this several times in sub-zero temperatures he realized that walking around with freezing pee sticking to your bum and legs isn't the way to go. Today, while taking our post-nap stroll, he stopped, looked around, somewhat furtively, and said 'toilet.' I stopped walking and asked him, 'do you need to pee?' He looked around some more, at the buildings, the sidewalk, the parked cars and told me, yes, he needed to pee. We walked around the corner, into the alley. I pulled down his pants purposefully and held his little pickle (gherkin probably the more appropriate euphemism). He said, 'it's cold,' and looked around some more. 'We're outside,' he said. 'C'mon,' I said. He let out a little trickle. It splashed down the front of his pants. 'Is that it?' I asked. 'No', he said. Then he peed. I aimed at the wall. Pee splashed on the wall, his boots, and my hand. Some dribbled on his pants but not much.

'D- peed outside,' my son said proudly. I wiped my fingers on my mittens and pulled up his pants. When we got home, I sent an email to friends who are mothers of more than one boy. Is there a way to do this without getting full of pee, I asked them.

I feel like I have become a full member to the mother of boys club.

Rock and roll.

Maybe one day my son will join the ranks of the likes of Mark Wahlberg (see above), peeing publicly at all hours of the day. I can only hope.