Making water

Playing in the mud at cousin Ian's house. Ian's mom is nicer than me :)

With all this beautiful weather lately, the little boys have been spending most of their time outside. We have two dirt boxes that are for their use and they spend most of their time in one or the other of these pushing their trucks around, digging holes, making dirt balls and cakes, filling the wagon with rocks, dumping the rocks out and on and on. I pretty much let them have the run of the backyard but there is one thing I am dang strict about and that is NO WATER. In other words, no hose in the dirt box and no cups filled with water in the bathroom and then carried out to the dirt box, and no "Mom, can I have a drink?" but secretly I am going to take my cup of water to the dirt box. The other day, they were really into building roads on the back patio and I peaked out to see them smearing water all around the ground and spreading it out with their little broom and stomping around in it to make footprints and other patterns. Hmmmm. I hadn't heard the hose turn on. I hadn't given them a drink of water. I hadn't heard them in the bathroom filling up cups at the sink. I opened the back door and asked, very casually I might add, "Wow. Where'd you get the water?" Owen jumped up, grabbed his crotch (Michael Jackson style) and shouted triumphantly:
"From our bodies!"
I looked at the huge pool of liquid on the patio, and asked rather horrified, "You mean this is pee?" I think my disgust was evident in my voice because they were quick to look at each other and try to back track. They hemmed and hawed until Owen eventually said,"
"Umm, no, it's from the  . . .  the . . . prickly trees." (said while looking frantically around the yard. Eli was no help.)
We hosed the place down and I gave them a lecture on peeing in the toilet and ONLY the toilet.
Oh. My. Word.