Potty words.

You know you have little boys if you’ve had this conversation:

Me: Anyone need to use the potty?
Them: No.
Me: Anyone wanna pee on that tree?
Them: Yeah! Yeah, I do wanna pee on that tree!

Boys are convenient that way. When you’re on road trips you don’t even really need to stop at rest areas when they need to pee. Just pull off anywhere there’s enough foliage to hide what they’re doing and all is well. We’ve even been driving to people’s houses and I’ve made my kids stop in wooded areas to pee so that they wouldn’t pee all over our friends’ bathroom. Because, let’s face it, little boys pee all over everything. If you’ve ever cleaned a bathroom used by a small male child, you know this already. (Tip: Always clean the trashcan.)

You know how some people potty train their little boys? By placing Cheerios in the toilet and asking their child to aim at them. Someone learned a long time ago that, for boys, peeing on stuff is fun and totally used that to their advantage.

I had a friend with twin toddler boys who said the boys were taking a bath and one twin peed on the other twin. When the pee stopped, he got really upset and threw a tantrum because he wanted to keep peeing on his brother.

To me, this peeing-on-stuff-is-fun sounds completely insane. I am a woman. I like nice, clean, flower-scented bathrooms. I get pissed beyond belief when I’m camping and realize the campsite has no toilets. When’s the last time you’ve had to get practically naked with no cover and fear that large woodland creatures are going to attack you while you take care of a natural bodily function? Sounds fun, right?!

Boys have it easy like that. They can whip that thing out and pee wherever they want as long as they turn their back in the right direction. And cops don’t catch them. But, you know, “If you’re under 18, you won’t be doing any time” (<–you really need to sing that out loud to get the full effect here. Go ahead, I’ll wait).

Interestingly, I’ve recently discovered that boys don’t really grow out of this stage. Ever. Grown men like to pee on stuff, too.

So we have Band practice usually once a week in basement studio. There’s a door leading to a garage in that basement studio, where there’s a fridge full of beer and water; Pretty much all you need to play good music. So for the entirety of practice people are wandering in and out that door, grabbing drinks, dropping cans in the recycling bin and shooting the bull.

Or so I thought.

I’d been working with this Band for about a year when I found out every so often someone would wander outside and pee by the edge of the driveway. They wouldn’t even walk the 5 feet to the treeline to pee on a tree. Where no one would possibly accidentally step on it. No, no. Right next to the driveway.

You know how I found this out? There was a guy visiting who we invited over to jam with us. He made a joke about how much he was drinking and how he was gonna be feeling soon and the Band told him he could either walk upstairs to use the bathroom or just walk out the door. I was stunned. For real. I had no idea they were walking outside to pee all the time. For as long as I’d known them.

I just– I don’t get it. The idea of peeing in public grosses me out. A lot.

I mean, the teeniest, tiniest part of me is a little bit jealous that guys can take care of business just about anywhere. And it’s normal for them. Girls, we just aren’t made for convenience. But there are a lot of things I like about being a girl and I’m content with who I am. Except for periods. Those suck. I’d trade that for convenience any day.


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