So by now most of you know that we don't live in the city - we have a farm about 3 hours outside of Memphis, just on the TN/AL state line. One of the differences between living in the city and the country is where you go swimming. In the city you go to the pool, or you have one - and in the country you go to the creek. So we found a great one, complete with a bridge to jump off of and lots of crawfish to catch and rocks to skip....you get the picture.

So I take the boys and I mean my nephews and the bains to the creek at least once a week - and this summer we really noticed what was lacking - a bathroom. But since they are ALL boys - I took them in the woods and we worked out a system. It's usually only 1 that has to go when we are at the creek and now it's actually normal...bizarre, but normal.

Anyway, we were there last week and in the process of swimming and jumping and playing catch-me one of my nephews has to go. Well, butterbain idolizes P and had to "go" too. Only he just sqatted and pretended and I played along. I didn't think it was any big deal, until the next night.

We were on the front porch and I saw butterbain back up to the edge and pull his underwear down - assuming the position. I rushed over and asked him what he was doing and he matter-of-factly answered "I have to poop." Of course I am speechless, and tell him that only dogs poop outside and that he's a boy, not a barbarian (well - not yet, anyway...) and he says that he did it AT THE CREEK!!!! So now I feel stuck, but decide to go with his most recent reasoning and bypass the creek comment altogether. I just tell him he's not a dog and he's adamant he is one, and we have the normal mom-and-son I am a dog/you aren't a dog all the way inside to the bathroom.

There's comic relief wherever you look for it -
Lib