While changing Boden Friday morning before I left for work, he peed on my leg. Actually, he peed on my pants leg.
I made the mistake, as usual, that it would be a good idea to let him go commando and roll around without being bound by the constraints of a cumbersome diaper. And, as I was saying to Boden, while turning away from him to get a pair of pants out of his drawer, "I'm sure I'm going to regret this decision but try to go a couple more minutes without peeing, okay, sweetie?", I felt a delicate spray of droplets land on my feet and heard the sound of a full-on, steady stream of pee dousing my knee.
The confession part is that I wore the pants to work anyway...the spot had dried by the time I got to work and, after a long week of failed sleep training (who's training who, I ask you?), figuring out an alternative outfit just seemed too much to handle. Besides, the office is relatively quiet on Fridays.
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