Public Bathrooms

I had to get a little distance from this topic before I could write about it. It's one of those.

Last week, the Gkids came over for a round o' fun, except that Claudia is on the post-potty training brink. I was suspicious about how much fun would be had, but my concerns were assuaged when Claudia announced immediately upon arriving, "I have to go pee on the potty!" Dutifully, I took Claudia upstairs and granted her some privacy so she could use the toilet and admire her Cinderella underwear.

Hours later, the novelty of Grandma's potty had worn off. I caught a whiff of something potently offensive, and naively assumed it was my own child. "I'm going to change Tommy's diaper," I told Claudia. "He's poopy."

"Poopy?" Claudia repeated. She seemed to be considering that as I walked away.

When I got to the changing station, I found Tommy wasn't in need of a diaper change, but---still way too naively---I assumed he'd just passed some gas. Moments later, Claudia was rushing towards me, pulling her pants and Cinderella underpants down in a state of complete panic. "Poop in the pants!! Poop in the pants!!! Aaaaaaaaahhh!"

Check that. I still don't think I have enough distance to make the 'ol remove-poop-from-the-pants-sterilize-the-bathroom-bathe-the-niece-while-anticipating-more-poop-in-the-bathtub-and-a-later-episode-of-seven-pee-puddles-in-the-bedroom entirely comical.

More better, though:

Yesterday, I was on the phone with my sister when she started in with a serious scolding. Scolding while on the phone is common in the mom club, so I didn't think too much of it until her tone was really rising, "William James!!! What are you doing!!!? Get back in here!!! Pull your pants up!!!"

Apparently, Will had decided it was too nice of a day to waste a second of sunshine. He'd taken a potty break on the front porch.