I suddenly felt a pee story coming on so I made up a story about a little kid who goes pee at all the wrong times. The same name as my son who had peed his bed four times the night before. I said “Who wants to be in a new story?” The little kid who had to go pee stuck up his hand and said “me, me.” This was the end of the storytelling and I was making up a new story. I didn’t pay attention.Īfter awhile he starts to yell “pee, pee, pee.” His father ran down the aisle, carried him out the back door, brought him back in a few minutes and sat him down. A little boy in the front row started to jump up and down on his seat. The next day I was telling stories in a small town called Cookstown, Ontario. I was doing laundry at three in the morning and was really upset. When my son Andrew was almost three years old he was still wetting his bed.
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