Potty Mania

My mom tells me that when I was little, I had a certain fascination with public restrooms. Whether or not I had to go, I had to go; not to use the facilities, but to check them out. It was as if I had a secret shopper job as bathroom inspector. I wonder what my criterion were to determine whether the bathroom was worthy of my deposits. I know that my mom isn't exaggerating, because I can vividly remember going into bathrooms and then walking right back out the door after routinely checking the place out. There were some bathrooms I would use again and some I wouldn't. I am that way to this day and I have my favorites, ask my husband.

We all know that children take on certain characteristics of their parents. Lucky for me, The Boy has inherited the "check out the bathroom" gene. However, at this point, I do not think The Boy has any criterion. He has to go into a bathroom at any place we enter, the grocery store, the restaurant, the mall. In some of our frequented stops, he could walk to the bathroom by himself if we let him because he has been in that bathroom many times. He generally goes when we take him in there, but it may be only a few drops and he may say he needs to visit that area 2-3 times during the duration of our visit. He seems to be most fascinated by port-o-potties. When The Husband plays softball, The Boy considers himself lucky to be able to use the port-o-let whilst attending the game. I would say our last venture to the softball field rendered up to 10 visits to the yellow, somewhat smelly, port-o-john (that is the last name I have for it, so now I will have to reuse previous ones.)

My conclusion that The Boy has a bit of an obsession with bathrooms and more specifically port-o-potties comes from on conversation on the way home yesterday.

The city works office has been working on the intersection by our house for sometime now. Out in front of our neighborhood Kroger sits a port-o-potty and at the end of the day, construction equipment not in use. Yesterday while sitting at the light at the intersection in question, the following conversation takes place:

The Boy: I have to go potty.
Momma: Well, sweetie, you have to hold it in a little while longer we are almost home.
The Boy: But, I have to go...
Momma: I am sorry, but there is no where for us to stop right now.
The Boy: Yes there is.
Momma: No there isn't. We are almost home can you hang on just a minute.
The Boy: There is, I want to go in the blue one over there by the digger.
Momma: Where (I look toward the direction he is pointing)? You mean the port-o-potty?
The Boy: Yes, the blue box potty.
Momma: We can't use that, it is for the construction workers.
The Boy: They will let me.
Momma: Well, we can't stop here. Do you really have to pee or do you just want to use the blue potty?
The Boy: I just want to use the blue potty.

So, goes the cycle of bathroom investigation obsession, passed between generations. At least he is honest.