You're Peeing on My Pee


The kid and I were out of town for the weekend. We were supposed to attend a dog fair today with the rescue but it got rained out. Our trip was not for nought, though, because we had a lot of fun. Lots of mother-daughter quality time, doncha know.

We headed out after my Weight Watchers meeting on Saturday morning. We had a two-hour car ride ahead of us, but we stopped several times along the way. My suspicion is that she has some sort of checklist that catalogs every public restroom in the state. And she plans to use all of them. The pet supply store we visited along the way? Check. The outlet mall where we stopped to buy a Father's Day gift? Check. The restaurant where we ate lunch? Check and check. Yes, she had to use that one twice. Five minutes apart.

This particular restaurant is an older joint with just two small stalls in the ladies' room. We were in one stall and some unsuspecting patron was in the other. After A went, I decided I'd go ahead and use the facilities myself. She stood there, hands on hips, as I took my turn. "Mama, YOU'RE PEEING ON MY PEE!" It goes without saying that this declaration was made loudly. Nothing, and I mean nothing, is sacred with a three-year-old. Later we stopped at a mall and of course we found ourselves in the restroom again. "MAMA, ARE YOU POOPING?" I don't know if sound is somehow amplified in public restrooms or what. I promise you I wasn't doing what I had been accused of doing, but I didn't bother to argue. I never win anyway.

The restaurant also has a carousel outside so of course we had to ride. As we were waiting in line the kid went on and on about how she was going to ride the white horse. So it goes without saying that once the gate was opened and we had our pick . . . she climbed upon a grey one.

Later we checked into our hotel and went swimming. Our timing was perfect because the storm of the century rolled in as soon as we got inside the hotel. We could see the black clouds from the pool.

At first, we had the pool to ourselves. Then, a couple strolled in and got into the whirlpool, which was about eight feet from the pool. I had been telling A that she needed to stay away from the whirlpool because the water is hot and it's just for grown-ups. So as soon as she spotted the couple she got out of the pool, stomped over to the whirlpool, stood over them, and asked, "What are you guys doing in that hot pool?" I mean, she just cannot leave strangers alone. Later they got in the main pool and she had to question them about what they were doing in "our" pool. She asked them about a dozen other random questions and after a while I seriously thought they might slip me a twenty so that I would take her back up to the room.

Later another woman arrived and started swimming laps. A watched her in disbelief and then remarked, "Her is swimming by herself! And she's not dying!" That lady was pretty incredible - I mean, she didn't have floaties on her upper arms or anything.

After swimming we went out to dinner. When we got back to the hotel I stopped in the convenience mart located, well, conveniently in the lobby. I bought the kid some microwave popcorn for later (there was a microwave and mini fridge in our room). She then proceeded to corner every hapless traveler in the lobby and lounge to tell them about her popcorn acquisition. Most of them nodded politely but there was one man who didn't mind chatting with a little kid about popcorn. He even suggested that maybe she could put it in a bowl and come back later. I really need to get her to stop talking to strangers but I also don't want to suppress that side of her, know what I mean?

The hotel had a complimentary breakfast this morning and it was a darned nice one with Belgian waffles and whatnot. After that we headed back home (through another raging storm) and she was able to cross another restroom off her list along the way. And this time, I did not pee on her pee. From now on I think I'll just wait until my bladder explodes rather than to endure the mortifying play-by-play.

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