Pishy Shoe.

As a bloke, it’s our goddamned Jebus given, genetically predisposed right to whap out our generous ‘Man-Johnsons’ whilst outside navigating the blue yonder, and lash Mother Nature right in her stupid face with our dehydrated and Sugar-Puff smelling piss water whenever we damn well please, thank you very much MR POLICE OFFICER!

That’s pretty much what I would say if I was caught by a member of Her Majestical’s Security Forces were I to take the notion to have a tinkle between the bins at the back of the local Tesco, but since I’m a respectable and law-abiding Government employee, I would NEVER dream of peeing anywhere but a sanctioned urinal device.. Uh uh, not me sir. Nooo way.

Unlike our son however, who seems to have no regard for public decency OR his parents when today just after leaving nursery and getting strapped into his car seat, demanded that he be freed from his shackles and let outside to the nearest bush, where he could spray piss all over the place like a loose bladdered dog. However, being as he’s still technically potty training, to pee successfully he needs to be held off the ground in a squatting position, with a slight recline so that he doesn’t spray ‘toddler-lemonade’ all over the inside of his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles boy pants.

The only downside to this as we all know is that little boys never piss in the direction that you think they’re going too, and as I stood there holding my son half naked in a full-nelson wrestling hold in the middle of a school car park, I could only look on in horror as his piss flow suddenly swung hard to the left, and started to baste the toe of my boot with toddler bladder sauce.

So now we have a small boy who’s celebrating being able to piss outside like a fucking farmer’s workhorse, and here I am scrubbing piss off my shoe whilst telling him he’s a ‘clever boy’ for not pissing his fucking joggers in a car seat like a regular bloody human wouldn’t.

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