The next day I was telling stories in a small town called Cookstown, Ontario. A little boy in the front row started to jump up and down on his seat. I didn't pay attention.

After awhile he starts to yell "pee, pee, pee." His father ran down the aisle, carried him out the back door, brought him back in a few minutes and sat him down.

This was the end of the storytelling and I was making up a new story. I said "Who wants to be in a new story?" The little kid who had to go pee stuck up his hand and said "me, me."

His name was Andrew. The same name as my son who had peed his bed four times the night before. I suddenly felt a pee story coming on; so I made up a story about a little kid who goes pee at all the wrong times. The kids loved it. They fell off their seats laughing.