Ummmm Mooooom!

The weather is surprising to me. The sun greets us every day and warms the desert to a crisp 67 degrees. At night, we are bundled in jackets surrounded by 35 degree air. The major drop in temperature happens during baseball practice.

Between 4 and 5 in the afternoon, the sun's sinking into the earth becomes obvious and the breeze pushes out about fifteen degrees of warmth from the air. Turner and I have held baseball practice each day this week (except Monday). I pick him up at 2 or so. We go to the park. Sometimes we begin with baseball. Other days we frequented the slides and spent quality time on Turner's favorite park item: the swing (on Thursday I pushed him for thirty minutes on the swing. As soon as he was convinced to move on, he jumped from the swing and walked into the path of the little girl who had been swinging next to us. He has a nice swollen nose and bruise on his forehead.) We always return to baseball on our front sidewalk around 4. We begin the game in short sleeves and by the end of it Turner is sheltered by a hat and asking me to warm him up, even though he's "still busy with baseball."

We came in from baseball earlier this afternoon so Turner and I could go visit Andy at work. Turner is reluctant to come inside, though I am able to finally shoo him to the bathroom to take care of business and wash his hands before we leave. I am in the kitchen getting some things together. I hear him push the stool to the light switch and push it on. Then the stool is drug back to the toilet and the seat lid bangs to the tank. He is grumbling/mumbling. I hear the water works start. Then it pauses. Then Turner screams like he is eight years old and in a television commercial, "Ummmmm Mooooommmmm!"
"Yes Turner?"
"I um I um come here."
I go to the bathroom. Turner is perched on his small stool, his pants hovering between his knees and his ankles. His eyes are wide open, "I peed aaaaalllll over the floor." He moves his hand like Vanna White. I laugh. I dislike that I clean up urine each day, but I laugh anyway.
Turner struggles down from his stool. Points out the pee on his pants. He relays the story to me. Somehow he "saw something." In the looking for where it went -- apparently it was a flying something -- he peed on the back of the toilet seat, which sprayed the liquid in various directions. "I look at the floor," which means he probably bent over the toilet and looks at the floor and that is when he "peed all over it."