WELOVESPUPPIES
06-15-2007, 01:01 PM
Okay, I just received this in my email and about LMAO so I needed to share in case there is someone out there in need of a good laugh. I hope you
enjoy this as much as I did!!
A 3-year-old tells all from his mother's restroom stall
By Shannon Popkin
My little guy, Cade, is quite a talker. He loves to communicate and
does it quite well. He talks to people constantly, whether we're in
the library, the grocery store or at a drive-thru window. People
often comment on how clearly he speaks for a just-turned-3-year-old.
And you never have to ask him to turn up the volume. It's always
fully cranked. There've been several embarrassing times that I've
wished the meaning of his words would have been masked by a
not-so-audible voice, but never have I wished this more than last
week at Costco. Halfway, through our shopping trip, nature called, so
I took Cade with me into the restroom. If you'd been one of the
ladies in the restroom that evening, this is what you would have
heard coming from the second to the last stall:
"Mommy, are you gonna go potty? Oh! Why are you putting toiwet paper
on the potty, Mommy? Oh! You gonna sit down on da toiwet paper now?
Mommy, what are you doing? Mommy, are you gonna go stinkies on the potty?"
At this point I started mentally counting how many women had been in
the bathroom when I walked in. Several stalls were full . 4? 5? Maybe
we could wait until they all left before I had to make my debut out
of this stall and reveal my identity.
Cade continued, "Mommy, you ARE going stinkies aren't you? Oh, dats a
good girl, Mommy! Are you gonna get some candy for going stinkies on
the potty? Let me see doze stinkies, Mommy! Oh ... Mommy! I'm trying
to see in dere. Oh! I see dem. Dat is a very good girl, Mommy. You
are gonna get some candy!"
I heard a few faint chuckles coming from the stalls on either side of
me. Where is a screaming newborn when you need her? Good grief. This
was really getting embarrassing. I was definitely waiting a long time
before exiting. Trying to divert him, I said, "Why don't you look in
Mommy's purse and see if you can find some candy. We'll both have some!"
"No, I'm trying to see doze more stinkies. Oh! Mommy!" He started to
gag at this point. "Uh oh, Mommy. I fink I'm gonna frow up. Mommy,
doze stinkies are making me frow up!! Dat is so gross!!" As the gags
became louder, so did the chuckles outside my stall. I quickly
flushed the toilet in hopes of changing the subject. I began to
reason with myself: OK.
There are four other toilets. If I count four flushes, I can be
reasonably assured that those who overheard this embarrassing
monologue will be long gone.
"Mommy! Would you get off the potty, now? I want you to be done going
stinkies! Get up! Get up!" He grunted as he tried to pull me off. Now
I could hear full-blown laughter. I bent down to count the feet
outside my door. "Oh, are you wooking under dere, Mommy? You wooking
under da door? What were you wooking at, Mommy? You wooking at the
wady's feet?"
More laughter. I stood inside the locked door and tried to assess the
situation. "Mommy, it's time to wash our hands, now. We have to go
out now, Mommy." He started pounding on the door. "Mommy, don't you
want to wash your hands? I want to go out!!" I saw that my "wait 'em
out" plan was unraveling. As I sheepishly opened the door, and found
an open sink, I thought, Where's the fine print on the 'motherhood
contract' where I signed away every bit of my privacy? But as my
little boy gave me a big, cheeky grin while he rubbed bubbly soap
between his chubby little hands, I thought, I'd sign it all away
again, just to be known as Mommy to this little fellow.
Shannon Popkin is a freelance writer and mother of three. She lives
with her family in Grand Rapids, Michigan, where she no longer uses
public restrooms....
enjoy this as much as I did!!
A 3-year-old tells all from his mother's restroom stall
By Shannon Popkin
My little guy, Cade, is quite a talker. He loves to communicate and
does it quite well. He talks to people constantly, whether we're in
the library, the grocery store or at a drive-thru window. People
often comment on how clearly he speaks for a just-turned-3-year-old.
And you never have to ask him to turn up the volume. It's always
fully cranked. There've been several embarrassing times that I've
wished the meaning of his words would have been masked by a
not-so-audible voice, but never have I wished this more than last
week at Costco. Halfway, through our shopping trip, nature called, so
I took Cade with me into the restroom. If you'd been one of the
ladies in the restroom that evening, this is what you would have
heard coming from the second to the last stall:
"Mommy, are you gonna go potty? Oh! Why are you putting toiwet paper
on the potty, Mommy? Oh! You gonna sit down on da toiwet paper now?
Mommy, what are you doing? Mommy, are you gonna go stinkies on the potty?"
At this point I started mentally counting how many women had been in
the bathroom when I walked in. Several stalls were full . 4? 5? Maybe
we could wait until they all left before I had to make my debut out
of this stall and reveal my identity.
Cade continued, "Mommy, you ARE going stinkies aren't you? Oh, dats a
good girl, Mommy! Are you gonna get some candy for going stinkies on
the potty? Let me see doze stinkies, Mommy! Oh ... Mommy! I'm trying
to see in dere. Oh! I see dem. Dat is a very good girl, Mommy. You
are gonna get some candy!"
I heard a few faint chuckles coming from the stalls on either side of
me. Where is a screaming newborn when you need her? Good grief. This
was really getting embarrassing. I was definitely waiting a long time
before exiting. Trying to divert him, I said, "Why don't you look in
Mommy's purse and see if you can find some candy. We'll both have some!"
"No, I'm trying to see doze more stinkies. Oh! Mommy!" He started to
gag at this point. "Uh oh, Mommy. I fink I'm gonna frow up. Mommy,
doze stinkies are making me frow up!! Dat is so gross!!" As the gags
became louder, so did the chuckles outside my stall. I quickly
flushed the toilet in hopes of changing the subject. I began to
reason with myself: OK.
There are four other toilets. If I count four flushes, I can be
reasonably assured that those who overheard this embarrassing
monologue will be long gone.
"Mommy! Would you get off the potty, now? I want you to be done going
stinkies! Get up! Get up!" He grunted as he tried to pull me off. Now
I could hear full-blown laughter. I bent down to count the feet
outside my door. "Oh, are you wooking under dere, Mommy? You wooking
under da door? What were you wooking at, Mommy? You wooking at the
wady's feet?"
More laughter. I stood inside the locked door and tried to assess the
situation. "Mommy, it's time to wash our hands, now. We have to go
out now, Mommy." He started pounding on the door. "Mommy, don't you
want to wash your hands? I want to go out!!" I saw that my "wait 'em
out" plan was unraveling. As I sheepishly opened the door, and found
an open sink, I thought, Where's the fine print on the 'motherhood
contract' where I signed away every bit of my privacy? But as my
little boy gave me a big, cheeky grin while he rubbed bubbly soap
between his chubby little hands, I thought, I'd sign it all away
again, just to be known as Mommy to this little fellow.
Shannon Popkin is a freelance writer and mother of three. She lives
with her family in Grand Rapids, Michigan, where she no longer uses
public restrooms....