Look, I don’t usually take on extreme positions here. I’m just not that kind of girl. I tend to be all mushy and “well, there are two sides to every story” and “I’m sure she had the best intentions” and “there’s room for EVERYONE.” On the other hand, I believed Mr. Clinton when he said he did not have sex with that woman so I admit to a certain ongoing struggle with being a Pollyanna.
My point is, I hope you’ll forgive me for stating a firm political position here. It’s just that I believe this very, very strongly.
I’m a pee fight pacifist.
The whole world knows.
I am a pee fight pacifist. I disagree with all forms of pee fighting.
Now, I know what you’re thinking. Surely, Beth, you understand that there are times when a pee fight, however distasteful, is necessary.
And that’s what I’m saying. NO. No, I don’t understand this at all. I’m telling you I believe that there are no circumstances which can justify a pee fight. NONE.
But what if the other person agrees to the pee fight, Beth?
Or if they’re really, really bad and have it coming?
Or if we try very hard not to pee fight but negotiations break down?
But what about peece keeping forces? Like, using one’s pee in defense of others?
Just no, you guys. No.
I’m like a rock on this. NO.
But here’s another little secret. The Confession of a Confirmed Peecifist:
My children remain unconvinced.
It’s true. Sad. But true. I have not been able to pass my beliefs on to my children.
I caught my twin boys planning a pee fight yesterday. I mean, sure, it was all talk. So far. No shots had been fired. But still. It caught me up short, and I renewed my determination to impose my peecifism on my kids. This is no time for them to think for themselves, friends.
So I engaged in the talks, working hard to articulate my perspective. The correct perspective. The only perspective.
And they remained unconvinced. In fact, the words gross, sick, and I will literally vomit if I ever catch you doing that only seemed to encourage them.
In the end, I appealed to their sense of equity. Fairness. Egalitarianism. I said, “Pee fights aren’t fair. Only boys have hoses. Girls can’t play.” And I made a sad face.
Look, I’m not particularly proud of my argument since I think no one should play, but, like all good negotiators, I was willing to compromise if compromise meant getting my way.
And my boys were sad, too. They like girls. They like me. They don’t want to leave people out. So they called a cease fire. Thank God. Peece before the first shot fired!
Late last night, Cael handed me this drawing, titled “The Pee Fight, by Cael.”
And look, Mom! We’re all sad ’cause we BEEN HIT. With all your pee, Mom. ‘Cause you are the BEST PEE-ER of us all. And I’m peeing on Cai, and Cai’s peeing on Ian, and Ian’s peeing on Dad. But Dad’s not peeing ’cause I don’t think he would do this game. He’s not really a Pee Fighting kind of guy.
I have failed.
But all hope is not lost.
No, hope is not gone.
Even in the darkest hour, a glimmer remains.
“Dad’s not really a Pee Fighting kind of guy.”
I pass the Peecifist baton on.
It’s up to you now, Greg. It’s all up to you.