Taking a toddler out in public can be humbling. I had such a time on a recent visit to the swimming pool.
Humbling
The process by which one comes to the realisation that one is not as composed, as skilled, or generally cut out for a set of circumstances as one may have initially thought.
Act 1
Having left for the pool in the usual rush, I arrived in the changing room and realised that a trip to the bathroom would be prudent, and indeed necessary. As it was just Alex and I, I was in the awkward position of having to take him into a stall with me. We hot footed it into the disabled stall – as I thought it was not best for him to be at close quarters!
Settling in, Alex bounced around the large stall, making faces in the mirror (yes a mirror in a toilet!) before settling on investigating the lock. I discouraged his inquisitiveness, which he ignored and continued with his wobbling. He was out of arms length so there was little I could do to intervene. Seconds later, freed from its position, the door swung open under its own weight.
“I did it!”
There is nothing like the prospect of being spotted on the toilet to help finish things up! Thankfully, survival instincts kicked in and any remaining modesty was preserved.
Act 2
After a thoroughly enjoyable swim – Alex and I headed back to the changing room to get dried off. I dispatched Alex into the family sized changing stall, while I picked up our belongings from a nearby locker.
“I did it!”
Bemoaning my stupidity, I turned round to see what I had already realised – that the little lock cracker in my life had purposely locked himself into the stall. I tried to quietly commence negotiations – but my desperate tone, coupled with the waves of giggles pouring out from the inside of the stall soon attracted a small crowd. Standing wet and as close to naked as (hopefully) I will ever be in public – I managed to jimmy the lock open using the coin that had just been re-deposited to me from the locker.
Humbling (Smallprint)
The systematic destruction of a carefully presented public persona by a pint sized vigilante. Mode of delivery is through a series of random acts, not usually pre-meditated, that expose you to bystanders as the buffoon that you are, as opposed to the cool, calm and collected person that you prefer to portray.
Act 3
All things happen in threes. Alex receives a carton of juice and a bag of crisps after every trip to the pool. At the point of us both being dressed and ready to face the world again, he decided to experiment with blowing into his straw instead of sucking. The resulting jet, sprayed with curious accuracy into the crotch region of Father’s shorts, with some back splash landing on Alex’s new shoes.
Welling up and visibly upset by the spill – Alex managed to mutter “Oh no Dada! Can you clean my shoes?”
A man stands humbled.
9 Comments
17/07/2009 at 11:14
I was really concerned Act 2 was going to find you wriggling under the stall door. That would have been a heck of a precedent to set for Alex.
Nice job keeping your wits about you!
17/07/2009 at 13:05
It is amazing at what these little guys can manage to do despite our best intentions. My 15 month old has a future career with the TSA, this kid can foil any security measures I’ve laid out in the house. I can’t count the number of times I’ve said “how did you do that?”
17/07/2009 at 14:04
Ha…I can so relate, repeat everything exact…but, from a boy, to a girl…imagine eh? LOL
Kudos!
17/07/2009 at 15:31
Here is a great story. Funny, cute and real. Act 3 had me laughing.
17/07/2009 at 19:44
hahaha cute story
17/07/2009 at 21:04
I am not looking forward to those days. Thanks for scaring the crap out of me.
17/07/2009 at 21:07
Great story, and I agree with BellaDaddy, sometimes it get’s very humbling with a girl asking about things in the men’s bathroom. Especially when she pleads to pee in the urinals.
19/07/2009 at 06:07
It’s always the little ones that will make you appear like a buffoon. It’s almost like it’s part of their genetic makeup.
I remember taking my girls into public bathrooms when they were younger. We always headed to the handicap stall because the three of us could fit in there at the same time. That was fun. Once we were yelled at by an older woman for using the stall. I wanted to roar back at her, but felt that it wouldn’t be a good example for the girls.
Needless to say, as much as I sympathize with you, your post had me laughing. I’m so darn glad my girls are teens and can go to the bathroom by themselves.
20/07/2009 at 17:14
I can sympathize…my 2 year old locks the slider every time I go into the back yard. It’s the main reason I keep the garage door open during the day!