I’ve had a couple of these moments in my 2.7 years of parenthood. Usually they involve juggling an armful of baby, bags and a dog leash. But today it involved more than that.
Riley and I went to a local elementary school craft fair with my mom and sister this morning. Shortly after we got there, Riley informed me that he had to go potty. Even though he was wearing a diaper, potty training is going well so I didn’t want to confuse him and just tell him to go. So off we rushed to the bathroom.
Obviously, I decided to go into the handicapped bathroom stall so there would be enough room for both of us. We got in and I realized the stupid lock on the stupid door didn’t work. So I held the door closed with one hand.
Being the borderline germophobe I am, I lined the toilet with paper and plopped him on it, but of course he’s teeny tiny, so I had to use one hand to hold him on the toilet and the other to hold the door closed.
AND THEN, the stupid ass flushing sensor kept going off and flushing the toilet while he was sitting on it. Yes, that’s only mildly terrifying for a toddler.
By the third time the effing toilet sprayed him with toilet water, I knew I had to do something.
So I stood on one foot and held my other foot over the toilet sensor.
Let’s picture this, shall we?
One arm holding the stall door closed. Another arm holding a toddler perched on the toilet seat. Standing on one foot while the other is stretched across to the back of the toilet.
What a shock, the boy didn’t even pee. He was obviously too confused as to what kind of demented game of Twister I was playing in the handicapped stall.