So after school today we were at the playground, and several other spritely pairs of only children and their mothers departed to go to glamorous restaurants, rather than boring old home. After that, there was no satisfying my children with macaroni and cheese at home.
At the restaurant, of course Iris needed to go to the bathroom, and of course we were seated at the very table which was the furthest from the bathroom of all, requiring careful weaving between seats and squeezing past people to reach the facilities. Just turned four Lola cannot be left alone at a table in a busy restaurant, so I had to herd the two cats back, timing this for after our order and before the food arrived.
A childless person would just gracefully glide back, use the toilet, wash her manicured hands, and return, carefree, to the table. Me: "Watch out for that lady, Lola. Give the waiter some room! Watch out, Iris!" as we stressfully progress back. Then, once arrived: "Iris, go in there. Use that one. Lola, aren't you going to use the potty?"
(very obstinately) "I don't need to. I used the potty once already today."
"I want you to try. Just try."
(extremely obstinately). "No."
I gave up. Next, to make Iris wash her hands. This normally sharp-as-a-tack child, who has been described to me as "having an unusual mathematical mind" by a non-relative, stared dumbly at the sink. "Push back on the handle, Iris. Use some soap! Rub your hands!" Iris entered into some form of trance, staring vacantly at the water as it streamed over her motionless hands.
"That's enough!" Given the lack of response from the possibly hypnotized child, I turned off the water forcibly, gave her a paper towel, and herded the cats back out. After another stressful round of "No, Lola! This way! Give the waiter some room! Watch out for the lady!", we arrived back at our table just as the food arrived. Lola instantly turned to me, her face a mask of stress, and cried, "I need to use the potty!"
An expletive escaped my dainty lips.
3 comments:
As a childless person, when I go to the bathroom in a crowded restaurant, I spent time walking to and from the bathroom trying not to step on or trip over any small children or babies, and yet, when actually in the bathroom stall, I spend time wondering just how wrong it might be to kick any kid who sticks their head under the stall door. I wonder if there's an age cut-off for it - like if a two year old sticks their head under, I shouldn't kick them, but a five year old should know better, so a little kick would be okay.
I know. I'm going to hell.
I bet I've said that one before.
hahahahaha, ooh, I feel guilty laughing at this! Drunken Housewife, you are such the writer (and storyteller!)
yr fan,
- M
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