“Mommy, what’s going on?” I heard him ask from out in the hallway.
First his hair, which looked as though it had been combed with a leaf blower, appeared around the edge of the door and then his face. He was only trying to peek into the bathroom to see what was happening, but he got more than what he bargained for. Like a wooden oar to the face the stenchification accosted him. Quick as a wink, a hand appeared (the same hand that was coated with my pee) and covered his nose and mouth just before his head disappeared from sight.
His disgusted voice sang out, “Aw gross! Did something die in there?”