Monday, November 7, 2011

"A Bathroom Tale (Sigh....)" Revisited

    A few days ago I visited our local Marshall's.  For some reason I was thinking I had never been in there since we'd moved here.  I love their housewares department and I was in no hurry to get home, so in I went with "The Bug".  As is customary any time we walk into a store or restaurant, Wesley started yelling that he needed to go tee-tee.  Why he feels the need to yell at the top of his lungs I will never know.  I slapped my hand over his mouth and whisked him away to the back of the store.  Upon entering the bathroom I immediately remembered I had been in this store before!  How could I forget?  I had a story unfold in this bathroom that would remain  forever in my memory.  When it happened I shared the story on Facebook (pre blog days), so some of you have already heard it, but for those of you who haven't I felt it was worth sharing again. 

A funny thing happened to me today.  I mean, it's funny now.  I giggled on the way home thinking about how crazy, embarassing and ridiculous it was.  It was necessary though.  My motherly instinct took over as I had no choice but to do what was necessary to save my child.  Okay, well that's a little overdramatic, but I did push myself to do something I would have never done 5 years ago.  The years before children.  Anyways, here's what happened.....
      As the boys and I walked into Marshall's this afternoon, Ian announced to the store that he needed to go to the bathroom.  To which Wesley loudly replied, "Ian poo-poo?"  (Sigh...)  I looked at the floor to avoid all the people looking for the children with no manners, and I booked it to the back of the store.  When we got in the restroom I made the split second decision that it was time for Ian to start going in the stall by himself.  He's a big boy now.  He knows what to do.  And those stalls are cramped when you put a momma and two little boys inside.  So in he went without hesitation.  "That was easy," I thought.  I stood holding the door shut.  I prefered he not try to latch and unlatch the door, for fear he might not get it open.  He did his business, pulled his pants up, and flushed.  "That was easy," I thought.  As he went to open the door his curious, mischevious little mind decided to turn the door's latch.  (Sigh...)  "Ian, unlock the door." I commanded.  Click, click, click.....  "It's stuck!" he said.  "No, it's not.  Just turn it all the way."  Click, click......  "Mommy, it's really stuck!"  He was panicing now.  He doesn't do well in these situations.  I tried to talk him through it.  He started crying.  A woman walked out of the next stall.  She smiled and said, "That's happened with my children before.  Here, I'll just crawl under the stall and get him out."  She began to get down on her knees.  "No, no!  I can do that.  I was just trying to avoid it, but I guess I don't have a choice."  (Sigh.....)  So down I went.  Of course the stall was only about a foot maybe a foot and a half off the floor, so I couldn't crawl under......I had to slide under......on my stomach.......with my face way too close to the floor.  I do, however, recall that the floor smelled very nice.  Was it fresh smelling from blue potty water that had recently over flowed....maybe.  But I'm going to go with the possiblity that they had just cleaned the floor with a powerful, pleasant smelling cleaner right before Ian went in.  Yeah, I'm gonna go with that.  So, I'm over half way under the door when I realize that in order to get up, I'm going to have to flip over.  Yay.  First my entire front side had to slide across the floor, now my back side will have to as well.  (Sigh.....)  Finally I started to stand, only to realize that Wesley had easily crawled under behind me.  I am an idiot.  Why didn't I just get Ian to crawl under?  Then I wouldn't smell like a public restroom floor.  I reasoned that if I hadn't done it, then the poor employee on the bottom of the totem pole would be forced to do it, and it wasn't even her fault.  Of course, she gets paid to keep that place running, not me.  (Sigh...)  I jiggled the handle.  Sure enough it was stuck.  "Dear God," I prayed, "I do not want to slide across that nasty floor again.  Please.  Please!  Open this door for us."  And what do you opened.  "Thank you Jesus!"  On the other side of the door was our stall neighbor.  She smiled and cheerfully said, with her fists triumphantly raised in the air, "You made it!"  I guess she hung around in case she needed to come under and rescue all of us.  That would have been cramped.  And awkward.  So, freed from the stall we all ran to the sink and washed our hands for ten minutes.  If there would have been a shower I would have used it. 
     So I learned my lesson.  Ian is not ready to use the stall by himself.  And I will never think "that was easy" ever again, until the deed is completely done.  Also, I want to thank the person from Marshall's who had gone in just before us and thoroughly cleaned the floor.  That is why it smelled so nice.......right?   "

Ahhhhh.......precious memories!


1 comment:

  1. LOL I love that story :) And I especially love how people from the south say "tee-tee" vs. "pee-pee"! I grew up saying "Momma, I gotta tee-tee" LOL



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