I've probably mentioned already how our custom of late is to wake Matthew when we go to bed and have him go to the bathroom. This improves his chances of waking up dry from "almost never" to "almost always."
He's tremendously sleepy when we do this. Sometimes he can't even walk to the bathroom, and I'll carry him to and from the toilet.
A couple nights ago, at Rachel's parents' place, I took him to the bathroom as usual. I put him in the general vicinity of the toilet and instructed him, "Pull down your pants and pee."
He pulled down his pants and peed... nowhere near the toilet.
I yelped and picked him up, still spraying, and pointed his stream towards the proper receptacle. Then I had to clean up the cabinets and floor. There was far too much to clean up with toilet paper, and there were no paper towels in the house; I settled on the hand towel, which I left on the floor where, I hoped, nobody would use it until I could put it in the wash in the morning. (Everyone else was in bed and I didn't want to wake someone just to ask where to put a dirty towel.)
In the morning, the towel was back in its place on the wall. Somebody had picked it up and, presumably, used it. Eww.
(Rachel didn't want me to write about this, but I pointed out that I was, in fact, exercising enormous restraint by writing about this instead of a far grosser incident that also occurred at her parents' house. She had to agree when I put it that way.)
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