He did. He peed in the fridge. There was pee. Lots of it. In the fridge.
Because he peed.
In the fridge.
The story is pretty self-explanatory, actually. Exactly three years ago, on February 20 of 2009 (thanks to the handy-dandy Facebook Timeline for the fact check!), I started potty-training my then 2 ½ year old son, Liam. He was, of course, wearing “big boy” underpants, rather than a diaper (read: “not so absorbent”; this becomes a factor in a moment). We were in the kitchen (I’m always in the kitchen). I was bent over, looking for something or other in the refrigerator (probably leftovers – I love leftovers; leftovers complete me). He saw his glass of milk, located oh so not conveniently on the top shelf of the refrigerator, and decided he was thirsty. I, of course, was in his way, and he, of course, was too short to reach his cup. But, because he’s a good little problem-solver, he very deftly slipped under my arm and climbed into the fridge, stepping up and onto the bottom ledge – inside the fridge – in order to reach the top shelf. While tottering INSIDE THE FRIDGE, he finally managed to grab his cup, and, quite proudly, take a sip…
Apparently drinking milk has the same effect as sticking your hand in warm water: it triggered his need to pee…
And yeah. So. My toddler peed IN. THE. FRIDGE. While wearing his not-so-absorbent “big boy” underpants.
And that’s how I ended up with a little puddle of piddle inside my refrigerator.
So there you go. That’s the story of my life. Everyday there’s something. Honestly, with three kids, two dogs, two cats, and a husband – there’s usually more than just one something. (It might not be pee in the fridge again, but with an 18mo toddler quickly closing in on his own potty training, I really wouldn’t discount the likelihood that someday soon you’ll read another blog post about pee in my fridge. Or maybe in my dryer. Or maybe on my computer keyboard.) So. I just have to shake my head, take a deep breath, and LAUGH OUT LOUD. Because if I didn’t laugh, I SWEAR… I’d probably stab myself in the temple with a fork before I ever made it to five o’clock wine time.
And that wouldn’t be good. It’d be pretty gross, actually. Not to mention painful…
Laughing is better.
And it’s my opinion that laughing likes company.
So feel free to laugh at my expense! I’ll be joining in with you as soon as I put the bleach away. At least until the next time a toddler pees in my fridge.