Bergen Hawkeye,  Chaos

the little details

When the name “Mommy” is called in this house,

the voice often originates from the bathroom.

So it was yesterday.

So it was.

And the voice calmly calling for assistance was

five-year-old Bergen.

“Yes, son?” I entered the bathroom.

“You politely requested my attention to your utmost needs, dear boy?”

(I think that’s what I said.)

He was standing in front of the toilet.

Pants appropriately around his boy ankles.

All appeared normal from this angle.

Oh.

But not entirely normal.

His boxer shorts were not lowered.

They were, in fact, still neatly at his waist.

“Mom,” Bergen looked at me seriously.

This was obviously not amusing to him.

“I forgot to pull my boxer shorts down before I started to pee.”

Indeed, son.

Indeed, you did.

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