Practise makes perfect.

Papi said, "Can I talk to you about my PeeCocks?"

Fortunately, I had had enough pain killers to just slide through this one with ease.

"Sure," I said, while thinking of worst case scenario that this could be about.

perhaps one that gets sewn on to papi's body?

It really wasn't all that bad though.

It was just my love comparing the difference between the two.

"Well, one is easier to use, but the other one I like more."

I thought there must be a reason that the easy one is not good enough for my love, so I asked, "Well, what could make the other one as good as the easy one?"

My love answered, "Well, the other one looks better than the easy one.  I don't want to be going into the men's washroom and pulling out a small dink."

There it was!

My love has confirmed my suspicion.

Ego.

To be honest, I wouldn't want to stroll in there and whip out some itty bitty dinky.

I understand.

So, it's back to practising for Papi.

I'm so curious about how much little boys sprayed pee all over the bathroom when they practised for the first while.

How long did it take to perfect how to aim and not spam the toilet with golden showers?

Was it a few months?  YEARS?!?!

My love is practising, but there is certainly a lot of talk about how much went on the floor, how much went on the toilet seat and how much went down mi esposo's legs.

So then I asked Papi, "Why don't you lift the toilet seat up?"

Seems there's enough chatter about leaving toilet seats up in other mens' relationships!

"Ew!  No!  I don't want to touch that!"

"But I just cleaned it!" I answered with indignance.

evidence is here ... on day 4 of a seized back!

Still wasn't good enough for Papi.

So, now every time I go into the washroom to be kept in the company of Bathroom Buddies, I know I'm sitting on urine that has merely been wiped off the seat.

Not cleaned off the seat, just mushed around until it seems there is no appearance of the culprit.

So, then my love went on to say, "I never knew there was actually a flusher on the urinals in men's washrooms."

thank you for my lesson of the day papi

No, I didn't know there was a flusher, so I definitely know more about mens' washrooms.

I'm not one of those who would forfeit a line in a women's washroom to jump into the men's with ease.

The only time I've done that is when I'm filled to the gills with alcohol and don't know any better.

However, being the seasoned drunk I used to be, my mission was to get in and get out as fast as possible to get back to my beer.  Hence, I really don't know what goes on in there.

Other than the pocket camera porn I saw once of a guy jacking off in the bathroom mirror.

Anyway, I think there may be a new cleaner in the bathroom.

One just for the toilet seat.

I'll go looking for an un-toxic, earth friendly cleaning sheet.  I'm sure there has to be one out there like the heavily toxic Lysol ones that exist.

If my love is going to sprinkle when he tinkles, he's going to need to clean that puppy off for me.

That will be the new 'rule' in the house.

One thing that I'm truly grateful for, is my love closes the bathroom door for privacy of the penis.

This pleases me.

I'm still needing a bit of work around my phobia ...

... a bit ... yeah ... that's right ...

... and Papi is being very respectful and hiding that new addition to our family.

I'm getting there.

Talking about Plastic Penes is probably a good start.

Laughing about it is going to heal me faster.

But what would make me even happier would be my love taking over being the bathroom janitor and scrubbing the christened floor, seat and wherever else he may be aiming.