The sun is shining, it's beautiful outside. So after picking Nick up from the bus, I decided to take my kids to the park.
I packed a lunch and we headed over to the "dinosaur" park. (So named because of the dino footprints in the cement and the large dinosaurs that you can climb on.) All was going well, happy kids on the swings, happy kids on the slides, happy kids eating peanut butter sandwiches. Happy, happy.
"Mom? I have to use the bathroom!" Nick suddenly declares. So we journey to the toilets. "Closed". Hmmm. After a quick look around, I make sure no one is looking.
"Just go over behind that tree over there," I say. Thrilled to have permission to pee in the great outdoors, he bounds over to the tree and I take the other two kids back to the swings. Minutes pass.
Then he yells.
"Mom! I'm ready!"
"Ready for what?"
Oh. God. Really? REALLY? Did you just poop at the park?
Yes. He did.
Right in the grass. Like a dog. And he's standing there, with his pants around his ankles, looking at me expectantly. I throw my hands up in the air. What? You pooped!? On the ground!? In public!? POOP!? What?! Wipe? You? IN THE PARK?
"You said I should go behind the tree," he says.
"Yeah, but PEE! I thought you had to PEE!"
"I did that, too. Can you wipe me?" he asks again.
What?! You think I carry toilet paper every where I go?
Well, actually, I do.
Then I decided it was about time to come home.