By Audrey W.
The four-year-old boy looked up at his mother as she held his hand and walked quickly a couple of steps ahead of him. His little feet padded along double time in an effort to keep up with the woman.
“Don’t worry, honey, we’re almost there,” she reassured over her shoulder.
The boy’s nod went unseen as his mom rushed on. His eyes wide as he struggled to make it to their destination without any embarrassing mishaps, the lad looked side-to-side at the strangers they passed. Many would take a disinterested glance; a few smiled knowingly, all too familiar with the situation from their own experiences.
After what seemed like an eternity to both the mother and her son, the two reached the end of their travel.
“Finally,” the woman sighed. “I never realized how big this zoo is. I think they need to put more of these things in.”
Again the boy’s nod went unnoticed as his mother’s attention stayed ahead and she pulled him along inside the room. He quickly averted his eyes to the floor, his cheeks flushed red with embarrassment, when the women already in the room stared at the new arrivals.
“May we please go ahead of you?” the mother asked one woman. She pointed down at her son. “He really needs to. . .uh. . .you know. . .”
The boy felt his face grow warmer as his embarrassment intensified.
“Certainly.” She motioned for them to step into the next available stall.
The mother closed the door behind them and lifted the toilet seat, then folded her arms across her chest. “Okay. . .go on. . .”
The youth looked at the commode in front of him in the cramped space, then up at his mom before returning his gaze straight ahead. Frowning, he sighed, once again looking up.
“Mom, you know this is highly inappropriate. It’s not natural for a male to use the same facilities as a female. Not only does it lower one’s pride, but it’s not very sanitary if you think about it. In fact I’d say--”
“Crai--” About near her limits after going through the same thing time and again with her well-versed son, she sighed in exasperation when she recognized the pleading expression on his face. She’d nearly forgotten to use his ‘secret’ code identity, though it was just their last name. “Just go potty, Brice. . .”
Lula Brice shook her head. Someday the boy was going to drive someone else crazy with his idiosyncrasies. She only hoped it would be a person with the patience of a saint.
This was inspired when I was in a public bathroom and I heard a mother in the next stall over say, "Just go potty, Brice." I knew I had to write this. Thanks to Jill H. for helping me get brave enough to post it. :o)
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