Yesterday I took Liam to the doctor for his yearly checkup. It was his first Big Boy Checkup and at Big Boy Checkups you have to pee into a cup. (Him. Not me). So I apparently missed this memo about the peeing into the cup because had I received a memo Chris would've taken him because the kid peed on my foot. Shoed in flip-flops. Bare foot. Peed on. I shrieked "OH MY GAWD, STOP! STOP PEEING! STOP! STOP IT! STOP! IT!" and he was all "I can't! I haven't learned that yet!"
I've taught him his ABC's, his numbers, the all-important love of money, but I forgot how to teach him how to stop peeing?
Hi! NOT MY JOB! I'm the mother! The one with boobs! And no penis!
After I had to scrub down the pediatrician's bathroom and wash my foot (a whole other story in and of itself) because of Liam, the human sprinkler, we skulked out into the hallway because I knew that all of those nurses heard me screaming and thought "What an awesome mother."
But we got a full cup.
I called Chris on the way home and informed him that if he ever wanted to get busy again he should start handling the very boy stuff as the kids get older. (He's also sick now and on antibiotics. We're really germy people. Peeing all over bathrooms and such. But urine is sterile, so one in our favor!)
Also, I'll be on the radio again tonight around 9:10 p.m. because my voodoo has worked its magic on Canadian radio's Geoff Courrier. The topic is the subject of this week's column, the difference between protecting and over-protection. You can listen online by clicking at the top of their mast.