Number Two

Wisconsin

Tuesday, June 27

On the way to the Minneapolis airport we stopped at a gas station to use the bathroom. My dad was busy filling up the tank, so I went inside to pee. When I got into the bathroom, I noticed a young mother and her little boy positioned awkwardly inside one of the stalls with the door wide open.  The little boy was probably about 4 years old and pretty much as cute as baby otter. He was squealing and wiggling, clearly struggling against the attempts to seat him on the "potty." As the door shut behind me, he spotted me, looked up and waved. I waved back. Losing interest almost immediately, he grabbed his mother by her hair and yelled, "Mom! Mom! Why do girls wipe their butts when they go peeeee? You wiped your butt. I saw it!" The mother turned to me, embarrassed, and tried to smile, but it just made her look tired. She said, "Honey, we can talk about that later, but right now I need you to go potty."

I entered the stall next to them, the only other stall in the bathroom, and tried to pee without laughing. The conversation next door only got progressively funnier, and my pee would just not come. "Mom! Mom! Now I'm going number one! See the pee? Hahaha, I told a lie Mom! I'm really going number two!" The little boy cackled maniacally. I heard aggressive little grunts as he fought to release his number. "Shhhh," the mother whispered. "Bathroom noises are ok when we are at home in our own bathrooms, but when we are bathroom visitors, we must be on our best behavior. That means you must try to be quieter, sweetie." The little boy laughed. "But I pooped, Mom! I pooped, pooped, pooped." At this point, I was nearly in tears. "Now you wipe me and then I want to see what I did in there!" the little boy commanded.

Unable to pee, and knowing I would have to face the both of them any minute; I just flushed the toilet and left the bathroom. My dad had just walked in from filling the car up and asked me to wait for him while he went to the bathroom quickly himself. I stood outside and tried to act nonchalant as the little boy and his mother exited the women's bathroom. The little boy strutted like a king, quite obviously proud of himself, holding his mother's hand. He spotted me and waved again, and said, "She went pee too, Mom. Maybe she went number two! Do you think she did a poop too, Mom? Maybe she pooped!" I ducked my head trying to avoid his pointing finger, but it was way too late, as everyone in the tiny gas station was either smiling or laughing.

I walked outside and met my dad by the car, still needing to pee, but absolutely unwilling to enter the gas station again. Although I appreciate his enthusiasm, I was a little annoyed. Fuck number two, little boy, I didn't even get to do number one.