If you give a mouse a cookie...

Do you have trouble writing if you have to pee? I do, but even worse is sitting down to a nice big bowl of cereal and feeling that uncomfortable tingle in your urinary tract. (Is there a comfortable tingle in the urinary tract?) Because then you run to the bathroom to avoid returning to a bowl of mushy Grape Nuts and then in your haste you pee down the side of your leg and get tinks all over your hand because you didn't let all the drips drip, so then you debate whether to wash your hands, because urine is supposed to sterile, but then there's the side effect of having each bite of cereal tainted with a hint of urine smell, plus the two tiny people that follow you to the bathroom every single time are watching every move, including the one where you say "shit!" and try to clean urine off of your wrist and hand and then the bigger tiny person says "Mommy are you just going to walk around with pee-pee on your hand?" to which you say, "No, no that would not be very clean" but you secretly curse her powers of observation and squirt some liquid soap on your befouled hand to scrub under the freezing water, and the cold water does not sufficiently rinse the thick soap, which actually turns out to be dish soap because your husband is a helpful idiot, so you dry your smeary-soapy hands on the hand towel, which, it turns out, has a ball of clay stuck to the back of it, requiring you to take the towel and put it in the freezer, and you stand in front of the freezer trying to remember if that trick is supposed to work on clay or just wax, the freezer which doubles as cold storage for the smaller person's favorite broken vibrating toothbrush and empty container of dental floss, and once the littler tiny person spies these treasures demands to stand in front of the freezer and alternately put them in and out of the bottom drawer, a drawer that also contains (oh joy!) a leaking pile of unidentifiable meat, which apparently the helpful idiot moved from the fridge to prevent it from leaking (most likely) elk blood all over 5 or 6 empty bottles of baby Motrin, and instead the frozen elk blood has formed a nice frozen maroon pond for a tiny person to draw pictures in with his broken vibrating toothbrush, so you take the toothbrush, rinse of the larger maroon chunks and put it in the dishwasher, then pull the baby out of the dishwasher and take the dirty knives from his clenched fists put them back in their dirty utensil cages in the dishwasher and open up the pots and pans drawer to divert the now-howling tiny person and make your escape back to the Holy Grail - the Grape Nuts, only to find them soggy and blown up to the size of blueberries which reminds you of that scene in 7even where the giant fat guy was force fed on Chef BoyRDee or something, and in scraping the mushy blueberry Grape Nuts into the garbage disposal, you remember watching that movie when you were pregnant and your bladder was the size of a mushy blueberry Grape Nut and you realize, hey! I think I have to pee again...