It’s after work, after our IFSP meeting, and we’ve decided to go out for supper. Eric has either had a minor accident or spilled something on his pants, so I head downstairs to the laundry room to dig a different pair of jeans for him out of the dryer. “Go potty so we can go to the restaurant!” I tell him as I go, and as I pass through the laundry room door I hear him heading upstairs.

I stick my head in the dryer, rifling around before I find what I’m looking for. As my hand closes around the pair of jeans, I hear the sound of water behind me and a little voice rings out.

“Oh no, I missed!”

The water stops, then starts again. I turn around and it takes me a moment to react.

“Eric! Stop! We do NOT go pee pee in the drain!”

There’s my son, standing pants- and underwear-less in the middle of the laundry room, practicing his aim with the drain in the floor. Meanwhile, my husband is around the corner, stifling a laugh. Later, after I’d appropriately explained to Eric that he is only supposed to go pee pee in the potty, and escorted himself upstairs, John turns to me.

“Know what, honey? You have boys.”