Last night, we were getting the kids ready for their bath, which requires a certain amount of nudity and running around and giggling. They supply all of that, I just have to help set the stage.

Jacob, being in his tentative-potty-state, gets a certain gleam in his eye whenever his has been unleashed upon the world. So as soon as the gun is removed from the holster, as it were, he is barraged with a stream of gentle-yet-slightly-frantic reminders from his parents: "Don't pee on the floor, Jacob. If you have to pee, go use the potty. Don't pee on the floor, don't pee, don't pee."

So he was naked and running and giggling, until he stopped and attained a certain prayerful attitude that goes along with one or two specific bodily functions. "Don't p--," I started, but alas, it was too late. He had very carefully straddled one of Willem's slippers and let fly. Not a drop hit the carpet.

Willem doesn't find this amusing at all.

I do.