Smells like teen spirit
This weekend, I experienced the hell on earth that is known as "a three-hour drive with your 3-year-old and almost-16-month-old where no one naps." Not only did Jack spend 2.75 of the three hours kicking and pushing my seatback, Emmie screamed every 15 seconds for milk. Which ran out approximately 30 minutes into the drive.
Josh was the driver, which left me to contort my body into various pretzel configurations trying to find toys on the floor that would amuse Emmie for 10 seconds before she would fling them down and scream for milk. I was doling Cheerios out left and right, thinking they would placate the masses. I was wrong. The masses started throwing them. At my head.
About halfway through the trip, Jack announced he had to go pee on the potty. We normally take him to a McDonald's bathroom in these situations because they are present about every 10 miles, are usually very clean and run less risk of me being kidnapped from the stall. (True story: when I was little, one of my aunts told me that you had to be careful in bathrooms because people would kidnap you and you would never see your family again. I somehow turned this into "gas station bathrooms" in my warped mind and am fearful of truck stops now.)
But we had just passed a McDonald's and another one wasn't coming up any time soon, so we decided to chance it at a gas station.
We walk in and find the women's bathroom (you think I was letting Josh taking my preshuuusssssh baaaabyyyyy into a men's room at a gas station? Christ almighty, I might as well let him lick a toilet.) and open the door. I am not afraid to tell you the truth: someone was either very ill or definitely needed to get some fiber in her diet.
And in my very first "kids say the darndest thing" moment, Jack yelled, "Mommy, did somebody poop in here?"
I try to downplay it, saying in a quiet voice, "I don't know, buddy, maybe."
"Mommy, it smells like somebody pooped in here. They did! They did!" he said in a gleeful voice.
Yep, that's my kid. He's talking about poop in gas station bathrooms and I'm writing about it on the internet. I'm not sure which is worse.
Josh was the driver, which left me to contort my body into various pretzel configurations trying to find toys on the floor that would amuse Emmie for 10 seconds before she would fling them down and scream for milk. I was doling Cheerios out left and right, thinking they would placate the masses. I was wrong. The masses started throwing them. At my head.
About halfway through the trip, Jack announced he had to go pee on the potty. We normally take him to a McDonald's bathroom in these situations because they are present about every 10 miles, are usually very clean and run less risk of me being kidnapped from the stall. (True story: when I was little, one of my aunts told me that you had to be careful in bathrooms because people would kidnap you and you would never see your family again. I somehow turned this into "gas station bathrooms" in my warped mind and am fearful of truck stops now.)
But we had just passed a McDonald's and another one wasn't coming up any time soon, so we decided to chance it at a gas station.
We walk in and find the women's bathroom (you think I was letting Josh taking my preshuuusssssh baaaabyyyyy into a men's room at a gas station? Christ almighty, I might as well let him lick a toilet.) and open the door. I am not afraid to tell you the truth: someone was either very ill or definitely needed to get some fiber in her diet.
And in my very first "kids say the darndest thing" moment, Jack yelled, "Mommy, did somebody poop in here?"
I try to downplay it, saying in a quiet voice, "I don't know, buddy, maybe."
"Mommy, it smells like somebody pooped in here. They did! They did!" he said in a gleeful voice.
Yep, that's my kid. He's talking about poop in gas station bathrooms and I'm writing about it on the internet. I'm not sure which is worse.
Labels: Jack, Kids Say Funny Shit
posted by Amy at
7:45 PM
3 Comments:
oh the fun of public restrooms. When I'm out and about and have to go Jordyn comes into the stall with me of course and she likes to ask "you poopin mom, you poopin?" And I loudly respond "no honey, just peepee."
So very true! I'm crying over here. I have considered duct taping my kids mouths closed in these great situations! Love your site!
My daughter always freaks out in public bathrooms until I reassure her that I will not let her fall in. She tells me she doesn't want to get her hair wet. I have absolutely no clue where she got the idea she would fall in the toilet far enought to get her hair wet. Makes me laugh every time.
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