two men and a baby . . . (subtitled) "urine" trouble now

PROLOGUE:
If you recall, some months back, a little boy named Corban spent a few days with us while his parents were interviewing for a job in Oklahoma. He is adorable and funny and really liked "ShooperMan!" Well, when Corban was a bit younger and his mom was giving birth to his baby brother, Mike & Sara kept Corban and his sister overnight, then Mike brought the kids to work with him the next day. Here's where our story begins:

CAST:
Mike: associate minister
Corban: cute toddler
Yours Truly: innocent bystander next door
Terrell: Senior minister, and all-around good guy

SETTING:
Our church offices . . . and other nearby facilities










ACT ONE:
Once upon a time there were two small children happily playing in the church nursery and offices. The "littlest" of the two keeps wandering down the hall to (read in toddler voice) "Go shee Mike". He likes Mike. And Mike likes him. Corban sits in Mike's lap while Mike works on his computer. Life is good. Suddenly, Mike becomes, shall we say, warmer than usual . . . particularly in (make throat-clearing sound) THAT area. Warmer, and wetter. He looks down and notices the front of his jeans are wet.

ACT TWO:
Being a pretty bright guy, Mike realizes he has just been peed on by Corban. We don't know what Mike's first thought is, but his first word is (read in grossed out, slightly frantic, higher-than-usual baritone voice) "STEPH!"

I quickly go to see why my name had been called in that "PLEASE HELP ME" tone, though I suspect I already know. I enter to find Mike sitting in his chair, lap wet, Corban being held out by his armpits a foot off the floor and as far away from Mike's body as his arms will allow, and a puddle on the floor. I laugh. I don't know how long or how loud, but I definitely laugh. The pitiful look on Mike's face says, "Ewwwwwwww. . . What do I do NOW?"

ACT THREE:
Nearly running, we head for the men's bathroom - Corban in front (as Mike is still holding him at arm's length), then Mike, then me. Mike quickly pushes open the door of the men's bathroom with his elbow with enough force to hold the door in an open position, and I follow him right in.

ACT FOUR:
Unbeknownst to us, Terrell is sitting in an open stall, and shocks us both by saying, (read in externally calm yet internally freaked out preacher voice) "Uhhhh . . . you'll have to take a number."

ACT FIVE, THE FINAL SCENE:
Awkwardly embarrassed that we have forced our way in to an uncomfortable situation, and yet still pee-covered, Mike instantly pushes around me and makes a bee-line for the women's restroom across the building. I follow a few steps only to realize the men's room door is still standing open. I freeze. For a split second my mind races . . . "Mike needs help. Terrell, well Terrell's privacy is not being protected. What to do?" I dart back inside the men's room, inside the men's room, where Terrell is . . . well, you know, and closed the door.

EPILOGUE:
I learned three important things that day:
1) Wet jeans dry very slowly.
2) Other people's discomfort is downright hysterical.
3) Terrell has really white knees.