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It’ll be a while before I try THAT again

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So last year, I wrote this post about how I can’t go to the bathroom by myself anymore. I’m (un)happy to report that in nearly a year, nothing’s changed. I still can’t go to the bathroom by myself. Unless, of course, Dan’s home. And the laws of the Universe dictate that I will almost always have to go when Dan is NOT home.

We’ve reached the point in dining out where Joshua won’t sit in a highchair anymore. He also won’t sit in his highchair at home either, or at least not often. He won’t try a booster seat either, though, in his defense, we haven’t exactly presented him with the option.

Now when we go out to eat, we ask for a booth and hope it’s a booth on the end of a row. Joshua almost always sits with me.

Actually, as the previous poop talk has indicated, he does almost everything with me.

Yesterday evening we went out of dinner and Joshua was in kind of a mood. And by kind of I mean he totally was. He was in the kind of mood where you just keep him as distracted from his unhappiness as possible.

If you’ve been following me on Twitter, you know I have a bit of a cold. My nose is stuffy and/or runny and it’s just kind of ridiculous. While at dinner, I had to blow my nose, but blowing your nose at the table in the middle of a restaurant is gross. Since Joshua was sitting with me, and it was nearly time to distract him again, I asked him if he wanted to go wash his hands.

Of course he did.

So we went to the bathroom. And when we got to to the bathroom, I sneezed. And nearly snissed myself. So I knew I’d better go pee while I was in there. But Joshua was with me. What was I going to do!?!

Oooh, the big stall is open! (YES I AM THAT PERSON! And in this case, especially, that was stupid.)

I took him into the stall with me and I locked the door and I said “No touching anything, Joshua! No touching!” and then I set about putting the butt gasket down on the toilet.

No sooner than I’d pulled my pants down and exposed my giant ass to the world did I hear “click!”

That was the sound of the toddler, my sweet precious Angel son, UNLOCKING THE STALL DOOR. While I was mid-stream. And because we were in the big stall, the door swung out instead of in, leaving me, on the toilet, on display for God and everybody.

I kind of went into a panic.


“Mama, I close it!”

Thank you, baby, thank you. Thank you, first, for unlocking the door, and second, for trying your toddler best to lock it back. Even though you didn’t quite get it, you had fun trying.

Next time you need to go wash your hands? Daddy’s taking you.

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Tuesday 4th of October 2011

My son never did that. His sister can reach locks now and, yes, she has opened the stall while I was busy too. The joys, oh the joys.


Wednesday 5th of October 2011

I should've known disaster would strike. It was inevitable.

Julie S.

Tuesday 4th of October 2011

This happens to me all too frequently. That's what I get for doing Kindermusik and his speech therapy during the week, an hour away, at 8+ months pregnant.


Wednesday 5th of October 2011

I don't even want to think about what this is going to be like as I get more pregnant and have to do normal shopping. Alone. With the toddler.


Monday 3rd of October 2011

Toddlers will stop at nothing to shame and expose us for the laughter of others. Punk ass kids. and yes he goes with daddy!


Wednesday 5th of October 2011

No, they won't. And yes. He does.


Monday 3rd of October 2011

I had the two of mine with me at a Chinese buffet when I went to change some diapers. And nature called.

I locked the door - but they're toddlers (truth be told, even if they were older, they wouldn't have payed attention), and as soon as I sat down, they crawled out from under the cubicle and made a b-line for the restaurant proper.

That was lots of fun.


Wednesday 5th of October 2011

Two! TWO! Every time I think about that, I get hives!




Monday 3rd of October 2011

Bwahahahahahaha! Ahem. Bwahahahahaha! At least there was no one else in the bathroom, right? (Right??)


Monday 3rd of October 2011

Oh no, there were. Preteens.

On second thought, if I'd let them catch a glimpse of my stretch marks, perhaps they would've served as great birth control.

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