A letter to the boys about sanitary conditions

Boys,

This weekend we went to the local arts festival. We had to go into the porta-potties a few times. I just want you to know that it is really hard to keep the two of you under control for even a couple of minutes at a time, so trying to make sure that one of you doesn't run away half naked into a crowd of strangers while getting the other one onto the potty is really pushing it. (Disclaimer: your other mommy was running to the car for new diapers. Otherwise, this would have been just a smidge easier.)

Trying to make sure that neither of you touches anything in a porta-potty is a ridiculous ideal, but it's still a one that I not only entertain but also try really hard to accomplish. I'm not very good at it.

After telling you both 900 times not to touch anything, this, that, or the other (especially the urinal), I instead promised to remind you when you are all grown up that you are lucky to have survived that particular weekend due to the amount of gross and disgusting germs that you must have picked up in the 2-minutes we were in the orange castle. It's incredibly barfy for me to even think about this, and I'm NOT a germaphobe (at least not yet).

I'm sure that you're only alive because I put so much of that anti-bacterial stuff on all of our hands. Nothing could live through that (I hope).

Let's make a deal: I promise to avoid places with porta-potties as much as possible until you are potty trained if you promise to keep your grubby little hands off of all the gross things when we do need to enter one of these disgusting places. Oh, and I won't let Mama Bub off the hook again. Next time, we'll wait until she returns with the new underwear.

Love you, you little germ magnets!
Mommy