I have seen one of our boys pee his name, in cursive, on a public beach. It was and still is a matter of bragging rights for him, a major accomplishment for a young man that can barely write his own name. So you would think that by the time a boy hits the ripe old age of, lets say twelve, they would be able to direct all bodily fluids into the appropriate disposal device such as a big white ceramic toilet.
I am starting to believe that every time one of our boys uses the restroom they have a grand mal seizure. Seriously, how do you get pee on the ceiling?
I’m really not whining. I have cleaned my share of urine over the years. I have seen everything from the normal bed wetting problem to kids getting revenge on another kid by peeing on their pillow (My personal favorite). I have seen them pee out windows and on campfires, in the snow and in the hot, dusty Georgia red clay. I even saw a kid take a leak on an electric fence and thought we were going to lose him to a heart attack.
I thought I had seen it all until I saw it dripping from a ten foot high ceiling. Of course all the boys deny any and all responsibility for the serious off target misfire. I can’t even imagine how it was done, seeing as how it violates the law of gravity, not to mention superhuman urination skills. Frankly the only way I see how it could have happened is by throwing it somehow. The thought of what they could have used along with the fact my favorite coffee mug is missing is disturbing.
If I find out who the culprit is I’m calling Ripleys. -Launch