Little Lyle needs to pee.
He is sitting in the back seat of his parents’ Honda Civic.
His mom, Tayler, is driving her little family to Monticello, Minnesota so they can exchange Christmas presents with her mother, Tanya.
His dad, Tristan, is sitting in the passenger seat, revisiting one of the most perplexing questions about his little family: why did he and his wife decide to name their kid Lyle?
Little Lyle waves his arms and says he has to pee.
They have just pulled back out onto the interstate after stopping at a Holiday gas station where Little Lyle refused to use the restroom.
Tristan covers his face with his hands and prepares to lecture his son. The past five years of parenting have aged his patience beyond function.
Before Tristan or Tayler can form a response, a barely-yellow stream arcs towards the cupholder between them.
Tristan’s eyes are still staring at the darkness his hands have gifted him.
Tayler’s eyes are no longer on the road. They are witness to the improbable event enfolding before them: the liquid arc finds its destination in Tristan’s coffee tumbler.
The stream is strong and steady, fortunate to find the tumbler’s lid slightly ajar.
Little Lyle’s aim is unbelievably accurate.
Tayler yells her husband’s name.
Tristan drops his hands and stares at the marksmanship of his son.
Little Lyle grins.
The accuracy continues for seven seconds before petering out.
All things considered, this bladder fiasco could have gone much worse.
It’s a Piss Coffee Christmas Miracle.