Sometimes I find out that I really don’t want to know what my children are up to behind my back. Tonight I found out that my son is a little more hygenic than I’d prefer. How is that possible you say? Well read on.

Tonight I happened to walk in on my son in the bathroom, just as he was finished going “Number 1″. I’ve been married long enough to know that there’s always that little drop left that either gets flicked into the toilet or (ugh) shoved haphazardly into boxer shorts. Not my son, apparently.

I watched with curiousity as he turned his gaze toward the toilet paper roll on the wall. “Oh good,” I thought briefly, “He’s going to take a piece of t.p. and wipe himself off.” Nope. I thought too soon.

Instead I watched in horror as he waddled over to the roll, pants still around his ankles, and wiped his droplet DIRECTLY onto the roll. Giving him a moment to redeem himself, I waited for him to pull up his pants to see if his next move would be to remove the soiled t.p. from the roll. He did not.

With disgust the last 3 years began to flash before my eyes. The exact same amount of time that he has been potty trained. And I began to wonder just when he began using this particular method of cleansing himself. And how many times I was the next person in the restroom. And how many hundreds of times I have used t.p. to blow my nose, or wipe my face, or…. Yugh.

Boys are gross.