Sweet boys, nephews, twins, oh so fraternal. Don’t you know this world belongs to you?
Everyone knows about those rooms, the rooms they build with every intention of us to potty there and nowhere else.
In these rooms they build white statues of porcelain and fill the bowl shape with water. They say this all serves a purpose, and so this is where we must potty.
They enclose these statues in four solid walls and store these rooms in your house for your convenience, your safety, as you potty.
They hope this might save you, stop you from entering the world. They hope this will keep you safely inside for a little longer. I often hope that for you as well. I hope that you may stay inside where you can avoid the chilly mud so sure to crowd the cracks between your chubby little toes. I want you to stay in the room so that you may avoid the sticks on the ground just waiting to puncture the soft skin of your two–year-young feet, not yet exposed to the parts of life that leave them hard and calloused. I want you to stay under a heavy roof so that the blistering sun won’t add unneeded years to your pale skin, so that the world won’t reach you, so that you never have to leave the confines of your own home.
But your young minds are curious, adventurous, daring. At such a young age you already seem to know that no life is worth living in fear of living.
Today you are two years, three months, and seven days old. Much to my dismay, you will never get the chance to be this exact age again.
But today was a good day. Today you each took a two-hour nap and watched one hour of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. Today you played with your big puppy, who also pee-pee’s outside. Today you helped mommy make breakfast cupcakes, (muffins) and you ate way more than most children your age are capable of. Today you played with your big blue ball and your little wooden piano. Today you stole and drank your mommy’s whole bottle of Dr. Pepper, and today you ran, and screamed, and laughed as the caffeine never seemed to wear off.
Today you pee-peed outside.
Today the world is yours. Today you made sure to leave a mark. Today you pulled your huggie diapers halfway down your growing legs, and you claimed your square of grass in the back yard.
But one day, one day your feet will be calloused by the ground, your skin will be aged by the sun, and your babble will be formed into devastatingly true sentences. One day you’ll have to listen to mommy when she tells you to potty in the ceramic statue. One day the whole world will expect you to potty there.
So today, I say, the world is yours, so what the heck, pee-pee outside.