Pissed!

So this morning I was in a hurry to get the kids ready so we could take Colin to school. I am always more than half-tempted to just take the little ones in their PJ's, but then there's that little voice in the back of my head that says, "The day that you don't properly dress your kids will be the day that the Jeep will break down and you'll have to walk or something." So I dress everyone, complete with shoes and coats, every single morning.*

*Never mind that I myself am usually wearing pajama pants and a ratty T-shirt and unbrushed hair and forget my bra at least 50% of the time.

Curtis's alarm had gone off at 4:30 this morning. But instead of hitting snooze (like he normally does no fewer than 1,267 times) he just turned it off. Which meant he actually got out of bed at like 6:30 ... thirty minutes before he is supposed to be at work ... which is a twenty-minute drive away.

So consequently, he was all, "I'm sorry, but could you take the dogs out since I'm running late?"

And I was like, "Sure, I'll take the dogs out. It doesn't matter that I have an hour to prepare breakfast and make sure three children are fed and dressed and at least the school-aged one is publicly presentable. I'll be glad to stand outside in the cold rain waiting on the dogs who have to sniff for at least fifteen minutes and then turn in a hundred circles before they decide on a place to pee."

Okay, so really I was like, "I guess so," in a pointedly huffy voice, but that's what I was thinking.

Anyway, my point is, I was strapped for time this morning. So when it was time to leave, I hurriedly ushered the kids into their coats. I'm a stickler for them hanging their coats on the rack every time they take them off, yet Colin's was on the floor. It seems like he's the only one who ever has an issue with forgetting to hang his; even Coby, my two-year-old, has picked up the habit. So I launched into my normal tirade about how Colin's coat isn't where it should be. He scowled as he scooped it up off the floor and put it on.

"Why is it wet?" he complained.

"Because it was on the floor, that's why!" I groused. "It's raining outside, and I'm sure when I came in this morning from taking the dogs out, I probably stepped on it with my wet shoes or something. If it had been on the hook, where it's supposed to be ..."

"But it's pee!" he whined.

"Colin. It is not pee. I'm sure it's rainwater. Now grab your backpack and come on!"

"But Mommy ... it's pee!" he whimpered, squirming.

"GRAB your BACKPACK," I bellowed. "We're going to be late!"

"But smell it!" he implored.

Exasperated, I yanked the coat right off him and sniffed. And OMG! He was right! It was wet with pee!


I don't know who decided to take a whiz in the middle of Colin's coat. It's rather a mystery, much like the time someone peed on my pillow. Coby is a distinct possibility, as he has taken to whipping off his diaper and running around half-naked. If I were a betting woman, however, I'd say it was probably our pug Destiny, who has this terrible habit of holding her pee for hours, not going when we take her outside even though we wait forever, and then peeing somewhere in the house. And when she does pee inside, she pees on something: a blanket on the floor, a piece of the kids' clothing, a stuffed animal. Then of course there are the cats, who I don't think pee anywhere but their litter box, but then ... animals are freaking stealthy.

Anyway. Colin's coat was saturated with piss, and we were on the verge of lateness. Fun!

Luckily, he and Cameron are close to the same size, and so he wore Cameron's coat to school (which he didn't mind one bit, because he's always griping that he likes Cameron's coat better anyway). And now the disgusting pee-coat is in the wash.

Maybe he'll hang it up from now on ...