Tales from the public restroom

While shopping this evening Larien announced, “I need to go potty.”

“Well, hold it. Okay? We’ll go right to the restroom.” I pushed the cart to a safe place, lifted her out (which is quite a feat since Finwe was strapped in the infant carrier), and headed to the restroom at the front of the store.

In front of us was a woman with her two daughters, roughly the same ages as my girls. (Inwe was at ballet class.) She was entering one of the two handicapped, or as I like to think of them “For Women with Multiple Children”, stalls with her girls. That mom was also in the middle of potty training her two year old. I could hear her conversation as I entered the other “Wider than two feet” stall with Larien.

“Let me help you.”
“I wanna do it!”
“No, don’t touch it. I’ll lift you.”
“I did it, Mommy.”
“Great job.”

That’s pretty much what went on it our stall except Larien elaborates a little more, asking questions like, “Is this the flusher?”

Somehow our two groups finished at the same time. Her eldest was washing her hands as she was holding her two-year old at the sink. I held Larien up in front of the sleeping Finwe so she could wash her hands as well. That’s when the mom said to me, “It’s times like this that I know I can do anything.”

“Isn’t that the truth,” I replied.