Monday, January 08, 2007

Don't have to tell him twice

The Kid and I headed downtown yesterday afternoon to run some errands and grab some lunch. My original plan was to do errands first, then lunch. The Kid's bladder had a different plan however, and the rather loud announcement of his need to urinate convinced me to just skip the errands for the time being and head straight for the many bathroomed food court. Of course, by the time we got there, The Kid was hopping all over the place with the effort of containing dribbles, and we both nearly panicked when we arrived at the bathroom doors only to find them closed off with a sign redirecting us to alternate bathrooms ALL THE WAY ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE BUILDING. Amongst whimpers of "I don't think I can hold it much longer," I drug The Kid through throngs of hungry weekend shoppers to the other restroom area. The Kid took one look at the line coming out of the women's bathroom and let out a pathetic "Ooooohhhh noooooooooo." The men's bathroom, of course, was wide open.

Now, given the world we live in, The Kid is not usually allowed into the men's bathroom alone. At least not in such a crowded setting. We were facing an emergency though, and women are surprisingly unwilling to let a crotch-holding child cut in front of them in the bathroom line. So I quickly surveyed the surroundings and noted the general lack of people in the area (except, of course, for 1.2 billion women waiting in line) as well as the fact that the men's door was propped open in such a way that I could actually see a couple of the urinals. I decided the current situation was relatively safe, and granted The Kid permission to use the men's bathroom by himself, but not before I held him by both shoulders and said in my best stern parent voice: "Go in there, pee as fast as you can, and get right back out here. We'll wash your hands in the ladies room. And if anyone tries to grab you, yell like all hell."

I meant it, and he knew it. Ninety seconds later, I heard the toilet flush and looked around the corner to see him hobbling toward me, pants bunched around his ankles. He was in such a hurry, he'd bothered only to pull up his underpants. He giggled as he ran like a little penguin the rest of the way to me, and I thought he looked so cute that I could do nothing but kneel down and hug him. Only then did it seem to occur to him that he was standing in the middle of a very public place with his pants around his ankles. Embarrassed, he wormed his way out of my embrace and informed me that his pants were still down.

Yes. I noticed that, little one. I noticed.

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