Put the seat up before you pee! Then put it back down when youare done!” I said for the MILLIONTH time in my career as a mom.Boys and bathrooms…what an adventure! Throughout my years of raising boys, I have often walked into my bathroom greeted by the lovely aroma of a giant urinal. Now, I’m notsuggesting that I hadn’t cleaned my bathroom for weeks and consequently it began to smell. (Well, that DID happen on occasion, and how often, I’d rather NOTsay. That information is FARtoo incriminating to just hand out.) However, just two days after each time THOROUGHLY scrubbed my bathroom with bleach, the urinal smell kept returning.Naturally, I figured out that this was because my boys all came with their own personal squirt gun. And the problem is this squirt gun did NOT come with a scope! I have noticed the ability to aim without a scope is SERIOUSLY limited, and it is crazy WHERE the stream lands. One particular time, I sat on the toilet seat only to feel a not-so-pleasantwet sensation against my CHEEKS! Now, considering the fact that I didn’t have a bidet, my only hope was that a freshly showered kid sat on the seat with their clean, wetbutt. However, then I remembered that just before I stepped into the bathroom I was looking at my sweaty,grubby kids thinking, Eeeeeww, you all need showers, which shattered ALLhopes of the wet sensation being a SANITARYone. Then my mind wandered to all the times I had seen my boys hitting the BACKof the toilet seat before shifting things downward. It was pretty obvious that, there I was, SITTING IN LITTLE BOY TINKLE SPLATTER Yuck!After I disinfected myself AND  the seat, I noticed the puddle that had collected on thefloor beside the toilet. I was sure THAT wasn’t helping the smell, either.   As I washed my hands, I notice my trashcan had splatter running down the side of it. I tried to convince myself there were MANYexplanations for that. It could be opening up a pop can after it was dropped…um, near the toilet? Or, maybe it was a squirt gun fight in the bathroom.Now THAT is quite probable, only I believe the water would have evaporated, not turned into a sticky, gross, goo running down the side of my trash can. SERIOUSLY how do they get it EVERYWHERE? Well, some of my questions were answered one day while I wasstanding at my vanity doing my hair. My five-year-old son, Timmy, walked in to go potty. He was fresh out of bed and, with a yawn, he assumed “the position”. He was actually aiming pretty well when, midstream…Find the rest of the story in 2Sisters’ Misguided Manual to Motherhood on Amazon.comor at a signing near you…Next Book signing at Dwell in Okemos Mi, Noveber 14th.  ”Be sure to checkout our Misguided Sisters Facebook page.