Anyway, as I've mentioned before, B.J had my mom for a teacher when he was a child. My mom's classroom was kind of old fashioned, you know, green chalk -board, students kept their books in a cubby under their desks, wooden floors and walls, separate room for shoes and coats (I kind of miss that style now that I think of it...). And it had a little bathroom just off of the coat room. It was a really, really tiny bathroom. The toilet was weirdly low to the ground too, so an adult really couldn't use it, and it was small. There was a sink too, but it was across from the toilet, so whoever was sitting on the toilet had the sink basically in their lap.
Now, B.J was not impressed with the bathroom situation. For one thing, he was so fat that he could barely fit in it. But he also didn't like to touch the flusher. Germs, I guess. Anyway, kids started complaining to my mom that something odd was happening in the bathroom. There were shoe marks on the toilet seat, and weird yellow stains all over the sink. Also, the bathroom and neighboring coat room had begun to smell like piss.
After several unsuccessful "honesty" campaigns to get the culprit to confess, my mom decided the best thing to do was catch the perp in the act. The next time it happened, she would ask all the children to take their shoes off and she would compare the foot prints. However, she never got the chance.
One morning, B.J returned from the bathroom soaking wet. Concerned that something might have flooded, my mom asked B.J what happened. He nonchalantly answered that the sink had sprayed him and that everything was fine. My mom didn't believe him. She went into the bathroom to have a look and what she found was...astonishing. Not only were there foot prints on the toilet seat, there was also a turd on the floor. The wall next to the sink was drenched in urine.
Now, it's hard to know what really happened in the bathroom that day. B.J confessed that for the past few weeks he had taken to standing on the toilet seat and pissing into the sink from afar. Apparently he had...lost his footing and slipped...and either dislodged the turd from the toilet or shat on the floor? It's impossible to really know. Oh and was B.J ashamed of any of this? No. Not at all. In fact he blamed the whole thing on my mom, and suggested that to prevent future accidents, she clean the toilet seat for him before he enter and also, FLUSH THE GODDAMN TOILET FOR HIM WHEN HE WAS DONE. (He was ten). He then suggested that perhaps his mother should be called in after every poo, so that SHE could clean the toilet and flush it for him.