A little boy is lying in bed, busting to go to the toilet.
So he gets out of bed, runs downstairs into the living room, and finds his mother chatting to a bunch of her friends.
“MUM,” the boy yells at the top of his voice, “I GOTTA PISS! I GOTTA PISS!”
Well, needless to say, the mother is mortified at her son’s language in front of her guests and scolds the young boy. “Quentin, we do NOT shout that word in this house! Next time, just whisper, okay?”
The little boy nods sheepishly. His mum takes him to the bathroom and tucks him back into bed.
The next night, little Quentin is busting to go to the toilet again.
So he gets out of bed, runs downstairs into the living room, and there is his mother, having a glass of wine with her friends.
“Mum! I gotta whisper, I gotta whisper!”
Mum excuses herself and takes Quentin to the bathroom, smiling at her son’s innocent mistake, but relieved that he was at least more discreet than last time. She takes Quentin back upstairs and tucks him into bed. “Well done, sweetie,” she says, kissing him goodnight, “that was much more polite.”
A few nights go by, and lo and behold, the little boy is busting to go to the toilet again.
So he gets out of bed, runs downstairs into the living room, and there is his dad watching TV.
“Dad!”, Quentin says softly, “I gotta whisper, I gotta whisper!”
“Aw, is that so, little buddy?” says dad, his eyes fixed on the television. “Come on over here and whisper in daddy’s ear.”