It’s the dreaded words I can’t stand to hear my daughter say…. “Daddy, I need to go pee pee.”

In my mind I immediately turn to a 3-year-old, throw myself to the ground, start kicking and slamming my fists, crying and screaming “I don’t wanna!!!!” But in reality, I suck it up, pack-up whatever the hell is around me, tell my son “come on dude, you might as well go, too,” then head to the nearest shit factory.

As a quick side note, my precious, darling little angel was born with the magical gift of needing to pee at the worst possible times – especially when it’s just me and the kids. As soon as food is served at a restaurant..she has to pee. Movie just started and we have all our popcorn, drinks, etc….she has to pee. Just climbed aboard the Metra to head into the city…yep, she’s gotta pee.

I’m fine with the boy. Once I taught him to use his damn zipper so his pants wouldn’t land in a heap around his ankles and in a massive pool of piss in front of the urinal – we were good to go. The daughter…well, she has to sit where dudes poo, pee, puke, and whatever other P-words you can think of.

I usually kick open the bathroom door while holding coats, popcorn, food, camera, and all the other kid accoutrements you can think of, and immediately announce, “all right…nobody touch anything but yourself. OK?!!!!” Which is then followed by a simultaneous “yes daddy.”

The boy heads off in his own direction. I then begin a frantic search for the cleanest shitter for my princess to place her precious bum on while also keeping an eye on her to make sure she really isn’t touching anything. I find one with only a dribble of pee on it. Score! Ripping toilet paper out like a mad man on a mission, I clean up after some douche who’s too lazy to use his foot to lift the lid. I stand back and admire the perfect little soft toilet paper seat and announce, “your majesty?! Your throne is ready.”

As she sits sideways on the seat – hands in her lap – I’m glancing around to check on the boy who’s already washing his hands. Score again! I hand over a wad of toilet paper, she gets dress, I kick the handle to flush it, we wash our hands, and we’re done!

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wanted to throw a diaper on the girl before taking her out by-myself. I’ll never do it though – mostly because I’m confident someone would notice, call TMZ and Parenting Magazine, and next thing I know I’ll be on Oprah crying and telling the world what a miserable wretch I am because I hate taking my daughter into the men’s room to piss. Instead…I’ll keep cleaning up after sick fucks so my daughter can keep her kidneys healthy. And one day, hopefully she’ll return the favor by choosing to continue lifting me to the toilet rather than putting me in an adult diaper.

All my life I had been peeing standing up.

As a wee lad I'd wake early, stumble to the potty with my tiny morning wood and Underoos and pee all over the toilet. In high school I'd pee standing up in the ratty men's room while getting as close as I could to the urinal so no one could check out my junk. In college I'd pee standing up....well pretty much anywhere, stupidly grinning and pointing at my junk.

Then our boy was born. The bathroom was right next to his bedroom and every time I'd pee standing up the noise would wake him up. Awake baby + nighttime = suicide material. So I started peeing sitting down. And you know what? It's fucking nice!

I mean – the only time I do it is in the middle of the night and the only reason is because it’s like I’m peeing and sleeping at the same time. I can just lean my oversized watermelon head on my fist and trot-off right back to La La Land.

But recently, I’ve fallen victim to the woes you women-folk have to deal with. Remember when I created the mind-numbing image of me as a boy with a tiny morning boner peeing all over the toilet….yeah – I have a 6-year-old who’s currently enjoying that sprinkler action. So in the middle of the night when I settle in for a relaxing unmanly sleep/pee – I sit in his piss.

So now…I’m forced to give-up a secret enjoyment of life. And that’s not cool. I’m pissed about it (that pun was not intentional).

I will forever hold it against that kid and look forward to the pay back – me, 90 years old, laying on my back as he changes my wet adult diaper.