So, here's what really happened today. 
It's Wednesday, but we're calling it Holy Hot Mess Bonus Day because my 3-year-old decided to test both my parenting and my bladder-strengthening faith in the middle of DOWNTOWN TRAFFIC!!

We're inching through a construction zone.  I was trapped behind the wheel with my 3-year-old chaos goblin in the backseat and my emotional support ice water in its rightful place:
My favorite dark green tumbler, front cupholder. Frosty. Glorious. Untouched. 
Then, I hear it.  The sentence every mom dreads in a moving vehicle:

|"mommy I have to potty."

Me: "Can you hold it, Baby?"
Him: "I think so"

Two seconds later:

"I'M NOT GONNA MAKE IT!"

Cue my spiritual crisis, ya'll.
Sweet Lord.  I panicked.
I prayed. 
I parked..... at a red light like a true delinquent.

I looked around for literally anything. 
Did I have a pull-up??
A spare bottle??
A miracle from Heaven??

No.  all I had was my hydration holy grail.

That beloved tumbler. 

Still half full of my perfectly iced water. 
Still full of hopes and dreams.
Not for long.

So, I did what any mildly unhinged mom with lightening reflexes and questionable moral compass would do with:

No time to dump it. 
No backup plan.
Just a mother.  A mission. A mug. 

I whipped around like a caffeinated spider monkey in yoga pants, one hand on the wheel, the other mid-mission.  Didn't even unbuckle him fully -- just maneuvered his "equipment" like I was a seasoned road trip veteran, trained in toddler tactical operations.
And I said the words no woman thinks she'll say to her child:

|"Aim for the ice, baby."

AND. HE. DID.

With the precision of a toddler-trained Navy SEAL, my son peed directly into my cup.
Didn't spill a drop.

Honestly? Proud. 

Cars honking.  Jesus silently judging me from the rearview.  I'm holding a lukewarm, now-haunted tumbler and questioning every life choice that got me here. 

And then came the worse part.
The ride home.
30 minutes.  30 minutes of thirst and betrayal.

Because my traitorous hand, fueled by years of mindless sipping, kept reaching for that cup like it hadn't just been filled with toddler pee. 
Every. Thirty. Seconds.

Like clockwork, I'd catch myself lifting it halfway to my lips-- eyes wide, soul screaming -- and smack my own hand away like it was possessed.  
I was literally fighting myself in the driver's seat.  I don't know who needed deliverance more -- me or the cup.  

Moral of the story??

The Bible says 'my cup overflows' but it didn't say with what.  Today, it was toddler pee.  Still-- His grace overflowed too.  Right there in a construction zone at the red light, Jesus didn't cringe.  He covered.  God stayed close.  Because holy doesn't mean sanitized.  Sometimes, it just means surrendered. 
"Surely your goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever."
-Psalm 23:6 (NIV)