Stinkies

A 3-year-old tells all from his mother's restroom stall.
By Shannon Popkin

My little guy, Cade, is quite a talker. He loves tocommunicate and does it quite well. He talks to peopleconstantly, whether we are in the library, the grocery storeor at a drive-thru window.

People often comment on howclearly he speaks for a just-turned-3-year-old. And younever have to ask him to turn up the volume. It's alwaysfully cranked. There have been several embarrassing timesthat I've wished the meaning of his words would havebeen masked by a not-so-audible voice, but never have Iwished this more than last week at Costco.

Halfway, through our shopping trip, nature called, so Itook Cade with me into the restroom. If you'd been oneof the ladies in the restroom that evening, this is what youwould have heard coming from the second to the last stall:

''Mommy, are you gonna go potty? Oh! Why are youputting toiwet paper on the potty, Mommy? Oh! You gonna sitdown on da toiwet paper now? Mommy, what are you doing?Mommy, are you gonna go stinkies on the potty?''

At this point I started mentally counting how many womenhad been in the bathroom when I walked in. Several stallswere full ... 4? 5? Maybe we could wait until they all leftbefore I had to make my debut out of this stall and revealmy identity.

Cade continued: ''Mommy, you ARE going stinkiesaren't you? Oh, dats a good girl, Mommy! Are you gonnaget some candy for going stinkies on the potty? Let me seedoze stinkies, Mommy! Oh...Mommy! I'm trying to see Indere. Oh! I see dem. Dat is a very good girl, Mommy. You aregonna get some candy!''

I heard a few faint chuckles coming from the stalls oneither side of me. Where is a screaming new born when youneed her? Good grief. This was really gettingembarrassing. I was definitely waiting a long time beforeexiting. Trying to divert him, I said, ''Whydon't you look in Mommy's purse and see if you canfind some candy. We'll both have some!''

''No, I'm trying to see doze morestinkies...Oh! Mommy!''
He started to gag at this point.

''Uh - oh, Mommy. I fink I'm gonna frow up.Mommy, doze stinkies are making me frow up!! Dat is sogross!!''

As the gags became louder, so did the chuckles outside mystall.. I quickly flushed the toilet in hopes of changingthesubject. I began to reason with myself: OK. There arefour other toilets. If I count four flushes, I can bereasonably assured that those who overheard thisembarrassing monologue will be long gone.

''Mommy! Would you get off the potty, now? I wantyou to be done going stinkies! Get up! Get up!''

He grunted as he tried to pull me off. Now I could hearfull-blown laughter. I bent down to count the feet outsidemy door. ''Oh, are you wooking under dere, Mommy?You wooking under da door? What were you wooking at? Mommy?You wooking at the wady's feet?''

More laughter. I stood inside the locked door and tried toassess the situation.
''Mommy, it's time to wash our hands, now. Wehave to go out now, Mommy.'' He started pounding onthe door. ''Mommy, don't you want to wash yourhands? I want to go out!!''
I saw that my wait 'em out' plan was unraveling. Isheepishly opened the door, and found standing outside mystall, twenty to thirty ladies crowded around the stall, allsmiling and starting to applaud.

My first thought was complete embarrassment, then Ithought, where's the fine print on the 'motherhoodcontract' where I signed away every bit of my dignityand privacy? But as my little boy gave me a big, cheeky grinwhile he rubbed bubbly soap between his chubby little hands,I thought, I'd sign it all away again, just to be knownas Mommy to this little fellow.

(Shannon Popkin is a freelance writer and mother of three. She lives with her family in Grand Rapids, Michigan, whereshe no longer uses public restrooms.)