I was reminded today of a cute episode we had with The Manager when he was 3. We’d gone to a museum a few hours from home to see Thomas the Tank Engine, and had stayed the night to spend a second day enjoying the museum while we were there. The second day, The Manager kept telling us he needed to use the bathroom but when Hubby took him he wasn’t able to go. What can I say? It’s hard to produce results when you’re 3 and it’s not your own toilet.
After we finished at the museum we headed home and stopped for dinner. We thought we were going into a more casual restaurant, but it turned out to be a bit nicer than expected. We were tired and hungry, so we went ahead and got a table. Sure enough, before we were done with the meal, the bathroom request was made again. Poor little guy. Hubby asked him to wait a quick minute while he finished his last few bites.
Just then, the very formal 20-something waiter walked up to the table and asked if anyone needed anything. I suddenly knew what was coming and tried desperately to wave it off, but it was too late. Those gorgeous blue eyes with the long lashes looked up so sweetly, and without further ado The Manager informed the waiter:
“I have to go poop.”
Then he went back to sipping his pop.
Somehow the very startled waiter found a dignified reason to leave the area and I was free to finish laughing in peace. Hubby took the kids to the bathroom for the four hundred ninety thousandth time that trip (still no output from a very important person), and then we headed home.
That was when the little guy spent some quality time on his own potty seat. Good thing that bathroom has a fan.
Earnest Parenting: helping embarrassing stories live on forever.