if the guy isn't peeing, he's at minimum touching himself in a inappropriate manner.

also, your wife has pictures of me that you should see.

You don't know how good you had it. Family? Piffle. I was raised in a flower pot by a local herb woman until I was twelve. (I escaped when they took me out to toss me on the compost heap.)

:lol2:

Gaww, a silver spoon it was you had, what with that woman to care and tend fer yer. From the age of two I lived alone in a drainpipe wi nought to eat but worms, unless the rats got to em first.

And I still di'nt have any legs, mind you.

Back in the '50's my parents lived in an apartment complex not far from the UN in New York. There was a big common green space for the apartment dwellers and there were several close lines set up for drying clothes. My older brother who was 4 at the time had a habit of wondering off (he was once returned by the mail man) so my mother hiched him to the clothes line much like you would tether a dog. He had the run of the lawn but couldn't get much farther away.

Oh, I should add that he turned out pretty much normal.

Other than always smelling like warm spring breezes and paying hookers to fluff and fold him, that is.

:D