Aim, Son, Aim!

My blog is about politics, life and stuff that pisses me off. This falls under life. My son is about 5 ft tall, give or take an inch or two. My toilet is 1ft 2 in tall. That toilet is about a foot wide. When standing in front of this toilet, the business end of this kid is about 2 1/2 ft off the ground. Subtract the 1 ft 2in height of the toilet and this "business end" moves a staggering 16 inches from the toilet.

Ok, he's trying to hit a 1 ft target from 16 inches away. How hard is that? It's not, right. It's like slam dunkin' a basketball. Pretty much all my son has to do is aim EAST. Once, while camping at about his age, I knocked a dragon fly right out of the air (honest I did.) Yet I constantly have to clean this toilet. Either he's got a fog nozzle on the end of it or he's doing it with his eyes closed. I don't know but it's getting old man, let me tell ya'. I don't remember having that problem as a kid. Maybe I did but I sure don't remember it. I asked him to have a seat from now on, but that's how girls do it. Maybe if I make him go outside to take care of business that will convince him to AIM.