The Grossest Thing my Kid Ever Did

Kids do really, really disgusting things. They pick their noses, they forget to wash their hands after using the restroom, and they tuck their shirts into their underwear. That’s a given. It’s a long process, but I’m learning to care less. I take a deep breath and suck it up.

I have to admit, it kills me that these boys can’t aim when they pee. I am sick and tired of stepping in puddles of urine (multiplied by three). I plead with them to be more careful but I have resorted to buying cleaner at the pet store, because I’m convinced that if it gets the stench out of a bull mastiff, it should do wonders on the presents little boys leave behind. (It totally does, FYI)

My new philosophy is a proactive approach. I will do everything in my power to teach the boys the right things to do (washing your hands with soap is usually a good one), but if they don’t remember, I move on. “No, you cannot stick your hand in my bag of treats until those hands get washed.”

But, lately something happened that totally caught me off-guard. I mean, my barrier of cleanliness was penetrated. And it was the most abhorrent thing that has ever happened to me. Here’s the deal. We’re in crazy LA traffic. Think bumper to bumper with no respite in sight. Do you see where this is going?

My littlest one says “I really, really have to pee.” I look around. There isn’t a place to go, which means no pulling off to the side of the road. We are not moving. I look around the minivan. I spot an empty water bottle. We never had to resort to this, but I remember friends in college swearing by this for long road trips. In fact, it’s completely possible that I made that last part up.

 

I hand my boy the empty bottle and he looks at me incredulously. I try to look convincing, but the truth is, I’m completely freaked out by the whole scenario. First I try the whole “can you hold it in just a little longer?” But when he replies with an emphatic “NO!” I know that we’re in serious trouble.

Since we are basically stopped in traffic, I urge my son to make his move. He does. It’s going surprisingly well. He’s filling up the bottle and I am ridiculously thankful that we have missed what could have been crazy badness. I start thinking about what I’m going to do with the bottle once he hands it to me. In LA, there are recycling receptacles on every corner. I’m not too happy with this. I picture some homeless man discovering a bottle of gatorade only to realize….But, I digress.

When the little guy is done, he doesn’t exactly transition well. The bottle is shaky, and when I turn around to see what is going on, warm pee makes its way INTO MY MOUTH. I am dying. I grab the bottle and put it in my cup holder (don’t judge, the minivan will undergo a deep interior details minutes later) but the pee is still there. I roll down the window and spit, hard. I search for the ever-present Purell, and I give myself a proper face mask. Yes, there was splashege. I would have rinsed my mouth with Purell, but given the alcohol content, I am trying my darned best to be responsible. Staying sober is certainly part of the picture. At this point I am kind of hyperventilating. I’m a recovering germaphobe so this whole thing is a bit much for me to take.

The last few minutes home are a bit of a blur. I just remember shouting “you peed in my mouth. There is pee in my mouth” or something equally enlightening. The kid is laughing because, frankly, his mother is insane. But, this isn’t funny, folks. This is sheer nastiness of the highest degree, to the twelfth power.

We all recover. As soon as I pull up into the driveway, I grab the bottle and throw it in the blue bin and then I proceed to shower, long and hard. But, I’m scarred. This may take years of therapy (it’s LA folks, we have them on retainer here).

The next time your kid has to go, don’t think that the water bottle is a good solution. In fact, you shouldn’t even have those plastic bottles. They are really bad for the environment. So there.

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