Don’t take the Manneken Pis (or why Potty training alfresco can backfire)

There are some things you just wish that your children, or indeed anybody else’s children, would not do. Many of them are things you don’t want them to do in public such as spitting, tantrums or picking their noses.

My parents dislike my boys rather startling habit of peeing anywhere that takes their fancy. In their defence this follows on from the fact that neither of my two boys likes to wet themselves but I fear that this is a rather lame excuse especially when you see both of them trying to see who can pee the highest against the back wall. They look like two very naughty cherubs and frequently put me in mind of the Manneken Pis in Brussels.

When I holler at them to “Stop that right now!” it makes little difference and the result is an excited scream at being caught and much giggling and running round the garden with their pants down.

I have taken the rather lofty view now of not commenting at all as I anything I do to prevent them from continuing with this habit is immediately undermined by the fact that Dear Charlie does it too. No, I don’t mean he runs round the garden with his pants down giggling hysterically, which while endearing in the Under 6s would be rather unbecoming in a man in his 40s, what I mean is that my husband is partial to the odd alfresco pee. And herein lies the problem. How can I stop it?

My parents decided to take matters in to their own hands when they came to stay recently. They had just driven in after collecting Bog Boy and my eldest, The Boy, from nursery and school respectively, and were making their way to the front door when my eldest decided to see how far he could pee while standing on top of the Dumper that the builders had parked up by the side of the lawn.

Granny was NOT amused when she realised that what she thought was a spot of rain turned out to be something else and The Boy was frog marched inside and given a severe talking to. Dear Charlie and I were of course unaware of these events until we returned home and while he happily rummaged in the drinks cupboard for liquid refreshment I got the full details with both barrels, not once, not twice but three times – from both Granny and Grandpa.

Them, sternly: It really MUST stop. We don’t want animals as grandchildren

Me squealing: But what can I do?

Them: You must tell them to stop it. You must be firm

Me: I’ve tried that; they ignore me.

Them: You are just going to have to discipline them. You never did that sort of thing when you were a girl.

Me: But they are boys. Boys are different.

Them: There is no excuse for that behaviour!

I wanted to scream that it wasn’t my fault when it suddenly dawned on me that it wasn’t my fault at all. I wasn’t the one. That’s when Dear Charlie came back into the room smiley blithely.

DC: Everything alright?

They gave HIM a severe talking to…

The next morning The Boy visited his father just before breakfast and was told in no uncertain terms that piddling alfresco was just not done.

The Boy: But you do it Daddy. You taught me!

DC: decidedly uncomfortable with this truth: Well erm, well you have to do it discretely. But you should really use the loo.

The Boy: What’s discretely?

DC: You need to hide behind a tree or a bush or something so other people can’t see you.

The Boy: That’s Ok Daddy.

And with that the whole incident looked like it was sorted. However later, at the dining table, The Boy decided he needed to go to the loo.

The Boy: Please may I go to the Loo Daddy?

DC: Of course Boy. Off you go and don’t forget to wash your hands…

The Boy gets down and instead of heading for the loo goes straight to the French doors and heads outside.

DC: Boy! What ARE you doing!?

The Boy: I am going outside to practise being discrete…

As I said you can’t win….