Dear Roger: This Wasn't Included The Mom Handbook

Today was a weird day around here, my eldest son had spent the night over at his buddies house again so I was home alone with the three youngest once again. My little girl got up early and took off to church as she usually does on Sunday, and then I was home with my two boys, who often miss out on church because there isn't room in the friends vehicle for them or Stubby just refuses to go because hes afraid I might have a spare moment to myself to find my sanity.
Anyway, the little boys slept in til fairly late and I rambled around the house cleaning and doing my regular stuff til they began to stir. I had everything put to rights and was looking forward to just relaxing away the afternoon and finishing up editing a few chapters of a story and maybe writing some more on a Serial Killer/Stalker story I have been researching for a few months.
Stubby and Sticky came wandering out at the same time, all bleary eyed and grubby boxer shorts hanging off their butts, scratching inappropriate places and whining about wanting things we didn't have in the house for breakfast.I told them to go wash their hands and faces and then have some breakfast while I went to make sure they had shut off their things in their room and left no evidence of anyone messing with or even looking at their big brothers stuff.
The room wasn't too bad, just socks on the floor along with blankets and a few books, but the bathroom...that was where it all went pear shaped.
I know those boys were potty trained when they first stayed with their father in Arizona, I know it because I trained them. I potty trained everyone when they were 18 months to close to 4 years old for Sticky,(Downs took him a little longer), I even taught them the,"Sink the Cheerios" technique of peeing. I had to teach them that because I am a neat freak and having boys who peed all over like elderly cats with bad attitudes would not be a good thing for my sanity. Sticky actually house broke before he potty trained. It took me forever to get him to stop peeing off the front porch and I was afraid he was going to keep getting in trouble at school for peeing on the playground. His father thought it was fine, after all, his main reason for us living so far out in the country was that he wanted a house he could pee off the back porch of without the neighbors calling the cops...charming fellow.
Anyway, my bathroom looked like they had gone in there and turned into wee boy pee helicopters. There was pee on the commode seat, which was DOWN, on the shower curtain, on the bath rug, on the tiles, on the BACK of the commode, and on the oak cabinet! I'm sure my neighbors think I slipped a few gears, but something had to be done, and bad cop came out to get the attention of the pee felons.
I marched them both into the bathroom and we had a refresher course in proper pee techniques, including stance and pecker handling(clothed and simulated), boys were mortified and embarrassed. Mom was mortified and disgusted that her sons were such disgusting little creatures. They were freaked out I KNEW such things,(I did spend a LOT of time around cops, Marines, Firefighters and just..guys), you pick up a few things. They helped CLEAN the ENTIRE bathroom and apologized profusely. Sticky made sure to announce to me each time he came out and peed afterwards, "I lifted the seat and held my pecker! I'm not a helicopter!" Stubby just blushed, but I know he got the point. When Chance got home later, the boys regaled him with their tales of woe, "Man, shes crazy!"
He shrugged at them, "Dudes, its easy, don't pee on the seat, don't mistake a dude for a chick, and just stay out of her way once a month and your life will not suck." We fist bumped. The eldest finally gets it.