I really don’t know exactly how he did it.
A few days ago, I was working (which means I was surfing the internet) on the computer while Greg was on the telephone with his sister when Ethan hollered, “I need to go poo-poo!” Next came his signature uncomfortable dance around the immediate area which serves to confirm his declaration.
He danced into the bathroom and I helped him get situated on the toilet. Knowing he’d be there a few minutes, I went back to what I was doing.
“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, DADDY! OH NO!” Ethan exclaimed. The horror and revulsion in Ethan’s voice told me it must be serious. Greg was occupied, so I ran into the bathroom and found Ethan wiping his face. So upset was he that he didn’t even protest my arrival (he typically will have a fit if he asks for one of us and the other shows up).
Then it dawned on me.
“What happened,” I asked, “Did you…oh my…did…did you pee in your face?”
“Uh-huh, YES,” he cried. The poor kid was devastated.
But I couldn’t help myself. I laughed and laughed and cleaned him up and laughed some more, even though there was not only pee on his face, but also on his underwear, his pants, all over his sneakers, and a big puddle in the floor.
Methinks this was the universe’s karmic retaliation for all the times he peed on us when he was little. It’s nice that karma has a sense of humor.