PRICELESS
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 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
r eally 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 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 o ur 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 emabarassment, 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)
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 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
r eally 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 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 o ur 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 emabarassment, 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)