Lying in bed this morning, but not wanting to break the spell of sleep and lug himself downstairs to the toilet, the Gay Uncle was reminded of an as of yet un-blogged about event that took place during his trip to Los Angeles last month. He and his boyfriend Tal had gone for a walk in Griffith Park with their close friend Dylan and his 5 year old son, Max. Somewhere along the way, they’d taken a wrong turn and gotten lost, and ended up wandering the streets of an adjacent neighborhood, trying to find their way back. Max became tired, and Dylan agreed to carry him on his shoulders. Having brought no provisions, and concerned for the boy’s ongoing hydration, Dylan soon stopped under a tangerine tree, resplendent with fruit. (These kinds of things pop up frequently in L.A.) Though Dylan is truly tall (standing at about 6’6″) even atop this friendly giant, the best citrus remained just out of the boy’s reach, and each one he selected appeared mealy or rotted or bug infested. Max began tossing the unsavory oranges away from him and, since the team was located mid way along one of the neighborhood’s many hills, the little balls of California sunshine bounced, rolled, and crashed into and under all manner of things–trash cans, old Saabs, front decks, cats. This was hilarious to everyone, no one more so than Max, who began giggling and guffawing uncontrollably with each additional toss. Gunc–always a fan of non-pain-inducing object tossing–encouraged him. But unbeknownst to the G.U., the boy has a hair trigger bladder, and all this hilarity and laughter seemed to set it off, and he was soon dampening his father’s deltoids (and clavicles and scapulae) with urine. Dylan took it in stride, not even yanking the boy down as the drip began to penetrate his T-shirt. “This always happens,” he said.