This blog post is brought to you by Dyson, makers of the loudest *+%#$@ hand dryers in the world, which made my young son terrified of bathroom fans, and hence, terrified of most public bathrooms.
This wasn't much of an issue until we were potty trained. Now, well, it is.
My Mom, Rowan and I had a nice trip to Hackensack today. We had a little shopping to do, and decided to go out to lunch. We had perfect restaurant behavior out of Rowan, which was awesome. We tried to get Rowan to go potty at the restaurant, but he had no interest. (Fan....too scary.)
Next, we went to a secondhand store next to the restaurant. It was nicely equipped with two bathrooms, both with fans. You could tell he was starting to NEED to go. I didn't push it, and hoped our last stop would have a fan-less bathroom.
As we walked into the Hackensack co-op, a sign on the door greeted us: No public restroom available. Oh, this could be bad. Of course, we were not in the door 2 minutes, when Rowan informs me has has to go potty. I looked pleadingly at an employee standing nearby and she directed me toward an employee bathroom in the back.
The Hackensack Co-op is not very big. The bathroom, possibly the smallest in the world besides the one at our house, is situated in this back room in an area where employees, mostly older folks who are volunteering, are packaging food on nearby countertops. Besides being small, the bathroom had this weird step you had to go up, making the toilet look very much like a throne. Did I also mention that though the bathroom was in the back, it was very noticeable from one area of the store? These details are important later.
One flip of the light switch, and I knew I was screwed. Fan. Crap. I tried to convince him to cover his ears. No go. Lots of whining, starting to shriek. Am employee convinced me it was okay to leave to door open. I was not sure I wanted everyone in the store to see my kid's naked parts standing on this stage of a bathroom, but what choice did I have? I wedged the wastebasket into the door, which for some reason really ticked Rowan off. More shrieking. I removed the wastebasket and looked around for another tool to prop open the door. I kicked off my shoe and wedged it in. This seemed to make him happier, until he started shrieking "Take my jacket off!!!"
Did you know it's really hard to take a jacket off of a panicking 3 year old who will not take his fingers out of his ears? (And, no, the fan/light was not on, but he needed backup just in case I guess.)
One shoe off, lights off, loud panicked child, feeling like I am on stage, hmmm...what could we add here to make this more fun? Oh, I KNOW, the Well Meaning Stranger. Can I just say I hate these people? I know they want to help, but really, saying "It's better than having wet pants!" to my child in a cheery voice a dozen times is not helpful. (This was one of the employees just outside the door.) I have often wondered how I could make some happy little cards to hand to these people to shut them up. It could say "Overly Sensitive Child, do not engage in conversation please," or "This child has issues, please do not speak to him when he is upset." Plus maybe I could find some pocket copies of The Out of Sync Child to hand out to these folks. Knowledge is power, after all.
Flustered now, feeling like my body temp is about 250 degrees, face beet red, I yank Rowan's pants down (he is of no help with fingers in his ears) and try to lean him forward to pee standing up. More shrieking. He wants to sit down. Backwards. This means removal off all clothing from the waist down, including, for some reason, socks. ("It's better that having wet pants!" I hear sung through the door cheerily.) At this point, I prove that patience is not an endless well. I raise my voice, start ripping off Rowan's clothes, and even threw his boot at the wall. The employee sings her little mantra again.
Luckily, my superhero (my mom) sensed things were not going well. (I suspect at this point most people in the store sensed this as well.) Rowan at this point was seated a peeing, but she managed to calm us both down and put the situation back together.
Clothed, bladder emptied, mostly calmed down, Rowan and my mom and I processed out of the back room. "It's better than having wet pants!" my new friend chirped.
I barely remember saying it, but apparently I replied "At this point I am not so sure about that."
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