This is why I sooooo want to have kids.....
Looking forward to a child or backwards at one. We all have stories.
A 3-year-old tells all from his mother's restroom stall.
By Shannon Popkin
My little guy, Cade, is quite a talker. He loves to
communicate and does it quite well. He talks to people
constantly, whether we're in the library, the grocery store
or at a drive-thru window. People often comment on how
clearly he speaks for a just-turned- 3-year-old. And you
never have to ask him to turn up the volume. It's always
fully cranked. There've been several embarrassing times that
I've wished the meaning of his words would have been masked
by a not-so-audible voice, but never have I wished this more
than last week at Costco.
Halfway, through our shopping trip, nature called, so I
took Cade with me into the restroom.. If you'd been one of
the ladies in the restroom that evening, this is what you
would have heard coming from the second to the last stall:
'Mommy, are you gonna go potty?
Oh! Why are you putting toiwet paper on the potty, Mommy?
Oh! You gonna sit down on da toiwet paper now?
Mommy, what are you doing?
Mommy, are you gonna go stinkies on the potty?'
At this point I started mentally counting how many women
had been in the bathroom when I walked in. Several stalls
were full ... 4? 5? Maybe we could wait until they all left
before I had to make my debut out of this stall and reveal
my identity. Cade continued:
'Mommy, you ARE going stinkies aren't you?
Oh, dats a good girl, Mommy!
Are you gonna get some candy for going stinkies on the potty?
Let me see doze stinkies, Mommy!
Oh ... Mommy! I'm trying to see In dere.
Oh! I see dem. Dat is a very good girl, Mommy. You are
gonna get some candy!'
I heard a few faint chuckles coming from the stalls on
either side of me.
Where is a screaming new born when you need her?
Good grief. This was really getting embarrassing. I was
definitely waiting a long time before exiting. Trying to
divert him, I said, 'Why don't you look in Mommy's purse and
see if you can find some candy. We'll both have some!'
'No, I'm trying to see doze more stinkies.
Oh! Mommy!'
He started to gag at this point.
'Uh - oh, Mommy. I fink I'm gonna frow up.
Mommy, doze stinkies are making me frow up!!
Dat is so gross!!'
As the gags became louder, so did the chuckles outside my
stall. I quickly flushed the toilet in hopes of changing the
subject. I began to reason with myself: OK. There are four
other toilets. If I count four flushes, I can be reasonably
assured that those who overheard this embarrassing monologue
will be long gone.
'Mommy! Would you get off the potty, now? I want you to be
done going stinkies! Get up! Get up!'
He grunted as he tried to pull me off. Now I could hear
full-blown
laughter. I bent down to count the feet outside my door.
'Oh, are you wooking under dere, Mommy?
You wooking under da door?
What were you wooking at?
Mommy? You wooking at the wady's feet?'
More laughter. I stood inside the locked door and tried to
assess the situation.
'Mommy, it's time to wash our hands, now. We have to go out
now, Mommy.'
He started pounding on the door. 'Mommy, don't you want to
wash your hands? I want to go out!!'
I saw that my 'wait 'em out' plan was unraveling. I
sheepishly opened the door, and found standing outside my
stall, twenty to thirty ladies crowded around the stall, all
smiling and starting to applaud.
My first thought was complete embarrassment, then I
thought, 'Where's the fine print on the 'motherhood
contract' where I signed away every bit of my dignity and
privacy?' But as my little boy gave me a big, cheeky grin
while he rubbed bubbly soap between his chubby little hands,
I thought, I'd sign it all away again, just to be known as
Mommy to this little fellow.
(Shannon Popkin is a freelance writer and mother of three.
She lives with her family in Grand Rapids , Michigan , where
she no longer uses public restrooms)
Looking forward to a child or backwards at one. We all have stories.
A 3-year-old tells all from his mother's restroom stall.
By Shannon Popkin
My little guy, Cade, is quite a talker. He loves to
communicate and does it quite well. He talks to people
constantly, whether we're in the library, the grocery store
or at a drive-thru window. People often comment on how
clearly he speaks for a just-turned- 3-year-old. And you
never have to ask him to turn up the volume. It's always
fully cranked. There've been several embarrassing times that
I've wished the meaning of his words would have been masked
by a not-so-audible voice, but never have I wished this more
than last week at Costco.
Halfway, through our shopping trip, nature called, so I
took Cade with me into the restroom.. If you'd been one of
the ladies in the restroom that evening, this is what you
would have heard coming from the second to the last stall:
'Mommy, are you gonna go potty?
Oh! Why are you putting toiwet paper on the potty, Mommy?
Oh! You gonna sit down on da toiwet paper now?
Mommy, what are you doing?
Mommy, are you gonna go stinkies on the potty?'
At this point I started mentally counting how many women
had been in the bathroom when I walked in. Several stalls
were full ... 4? 5? Maybe we could wait until they all left
before I had to make my debut out of this stall and reveal
my identity. Cade continued:
'Mommy, you ARE going stinkies aren't you?
Oh, dats a good girl, Mommy!
Are you gonna get some candy for going stinkies on the potty?
Let me see doze stinkies, Mommy!
Oh ... Mommy! I'm trying to see In dere.
Oh! I see dem. Dat is a very good girl, Mommy. You are
gonna get some candy!'
I heard a few faint chuckles coming from the stalls on
either side of me.
Where is a screaming new born when you need her?
Good grief. This was really getting embarrassing. I was
definitely waiting a long time before exiting. Trying to
divert him, I said, 'Why don't you look in Mommy's purse and
see if you can find some candy. We'll both have some!'
'No, I'm trying to see doze more stinkies.
Oh! Mommy!'
He started to gag at this point.
'Uh - oh, Mommy. I fink I'm gonna frow up.
Mommy, doze stinkies are making me frow up!!
Dat is so gross!!'
As the gags became louder, so did the chuckles outside my
stall. I quickly flushed the toilet in hopes of changing the
subject. I began to reason with myself: OK. There are four
other toilets. If I count four flushes, I can be reasonably
assured that those who overheard this embarrassing monologue
will be long gone.
'Mommy! Would you get off the potty, now? I want you to be
done going stinkies! Get up! Get up!'
He grunted as he tried to pull me off. Now I could hear
full-blown
laughter. I bent down to count the feet outside my door.
'Oh, are you wooking under dere, Mommy?
You wooking under da door?
What were you wooking at?
Mommy? You wooking at the wady's feet?'
More laughter. I stood inside the locked door and tried to
assess the situation.
'Mommy, it's time to wash our hands, now. We have to go out
now, Mommy.'
He started pounding on the door. 'Mommy, don't you want to
wash your hands? I want to go out!!'
I saw that my 'wait 'em out' plan was unraveling. I
sheepishly opened the door, and found standing outside my
stall, twenty to thirty ladies crowded around the stall, all
smiling and starting to applaud.
My first thought was complete embarrassment, then I
thought, 'Where's the fine print on the 'motherhood
contract' where I signed away every bit of my dignity and
privacy?' But as my little boy gave me a big, cheeky grin
while he rubbed bubbly soap between his chubby little hands,
I thought, I'd sign it all away again, just to be known as
Mommy to this little fellow.
(Shannon Popkin is a freelance writer and mother of three.
She lives with her family in Grand Rapids , Michigan , where
she no longer uses public restrooms)
VIEW 8 of 8 COMMENTS
I am ok... I reblogged.