My son, the three-year old who seems to be successfully potty-trained, underwent a rite of passage today. He willfully peed outside for the first time.
We were at a park we haven't gone to that often this evening, and as Quinn clutched his package while muttering "Gotta go potty," I searched for a bathroom. And I found none nearby.
So we went behind a building, I told him to just "pee there on the ground - in that corner," he dropped his drawers, and he did his business there in the dirt.
He glowingly told his sister after she got done with her gymnastics practice, "I peed in the dirt, Hannah. In the dirt." She, of course, found such practice disgusting and crude.
I don't know why exactly this is, but I take Quinn's newfound knowledge gratifying. I guess I remember being a kid and my own father telling me just to whizz on a tree in the rough (probably first happened at a golf course). Also, there's a certain freedom in knowing that, if need be, a restroom for no. 1 isn't necessary.
So maybe this is a strange phallocentric post, but I'm tickled that Quinn now knows what I know.
2 comments:
Q, my husband teaches AP US History and has a whole Jeffersonian philosophy about peeing outside and owning our house (where he can pee outside any time he wants). So glad your young 'un has experienced this boyhood rite. (I have to admit, while I mostly agree with Hannah here, this is the one thing I'm jealous of in you men, if only for convenience's sake.)
The practice is helpful when necessary.
Does your husband also have his own plot of land where he grow crops to fit in with the Jeffersonian ideal?
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