Butler County isn't exactly known for gangs, thugs and the like, but as a journalist, sometimes it is my duty to show the seedy underbelly of our little slice of heaven. Folks, there are turf wars going on right before our eyes and there doesn't appear to be an end in sight.

The wars are going on in broad daylight, and often in front of many onlookers. Yes, the turf wars I am talking about involve 4- to 8-year-old boys, busy marking their "turf" at every opportunity in local restrooms.

My son happens to fall into this age group, and lately he's become preoccupied with his (how do I say this delicately?) ability to "mark" his territory. Most times, his need to let would-be intruders know where he's been occurs just as my favorite waitress brings my eggs and bacon.

Regardless of where you fall on the creationism vs. evolution debate, one thing cannot be argued — little boys have not evolved beyond the most primitive of primates when it comes to this issue.

For instance, I had the misfortune of accompanying him to one of his favorite "spots" last week. Imagine my son's surprise when an intruder from a neighboring "camp," cleverly disguised as a 4-year-old, was standing in front of my son's usual spot.

Soft puppy dog eyes looked up to me, as if to say "how could you let this happen?"

We waited in line for several minutes before the little boy moved on to cold eggs and bacon with his own tired-looking father. The father gave me a knowing look, as though we were two wise warriors training their eventual leaders.

"Why did he use my potty, Daddy?" asked my son.

How can anyone with any sense of humor not laugh at that question? My son had been going to that same spot every single Sunday for the past 18 months.

"Sometimes we have to share," was all I could muster behind a well-hidden smile.

Interestingly, I've not been able to get into the female camp for several years to know if they face the same issues. But I have witnessed the trend of women going in pairs beginning early in life, starting with my 3-year-old daughter who insists on her privacy but needs to take Mom with her.

I've also noticed she has to go exactly three minutes and six seconds after I return from my son's adventure. It's clearly a case of "monkey-see, monkey doo-doo."

Yes, scientists claim that we've evolved into a superior species capable of anything and everything, but when you get down to bare basics, we've not come so far at all when it comes to turf wars. Perhaps the only real advance is the fact that the turf being marked now is indoors.

I just can't wait until the day I get to eat an entire meal with my wife again.