When we went on vacation back in June, my husband was just a couple weeks into his summer classes and still had quite a lot of homework to do each day, so I took Monsoon out by myself a lot. No big deal, he's a fun little guy. Except when he has to potty, because for some reason kids wait until the last possible moment to tell you they have to go. The last possible moment.
If anyone has ever been to Virginia Beach, you know how wide the beach part actually is. It's a long freakin walk from the boardwalk to the ocean. Monsoon and I hefted (yeah, I hefted, 'cause he had enough trouble walking in the sand with just himself) all our beach gear and bottles (not plastic, don't worry) of water and sand toys and whatnot all the way across the sand to a nice crowded spot. Then he tells me he has to potty.
There are porta-pots along boardwalk, but that was another hike back across the sand and did I really want to leave all our crap laying there and I was hot and ready to get into the water. So I told him...
"Just go in the ocean. The fish do it."
Yes, I know it's gross so judge me all you want. It took some convincing and trash-talking the porta-potty, but he finally agreed. I led him to the water, kept walking after he dropped my hand, and looked back to see him dropping trou before his toes even touched the water. Ack!
I ran over and quickly pulled up his drawers, "No, Honey Pot! We have to leave your shorts on and go IN the ocean first." He looked at me as if I had gone insane. It was the opposite of everything I had been teaching him since he first stopped wearing diapers nearly two years ago.
Nope, he wouldn't do it. No way, no way. I ended up having to run back to the boardwalk, practically carrying him to get there in time, and wouldn't ya know it.... he didn't just have to pee. Thank God my kid has some sense, because I've lost it somewhere along the way.
It wasn't as awkward as it could have been, but I got some mighty nasty looks when he pulled down his pants.
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