This weekend, Gary and I were shopping at Best Buy. Well, I was sitting on a comfy chair watching the giant TV and Gary was using the restroom. I looked up from the comfy chair and saw he was standing there.
He looked stricken.
“Gary?”
“There was a little girl!” he whispered, “In the men’s room.”
“Alone?”
“No! Her Dad took her in there!” He was deeply shocked.
“Well, I guess she needed to go, and Mom wasn’t around. I see little boys in the ladies room all the time.”
“But there were men’s – wieners – in there. All hanging out.”
“Was yours hanging out?”
“Well, no,I was in a stall. But then her father took her into a stall and went in there with her. And then she peed. And while she was still in there HE! PEED! And then while he was peeing he kept saying to her, ‘Don’t touch that. Don’t touch that. Don’t touch that.’ Over and OVER!” Then he remembered to lower his voice. “Like she kept trying to touch his wiener or his pee or something.”
Well, now that is odd, I thought, and mentioned it to Caroline (#4) at lunch. I was reminded of it because Caroline and Kelly were sharing potty-training stories. It seems the answer to all questions is “Pull-ups.”
“That reminds me, Gary had this problem this weekend -“
“Pull-ups!” Caroline said swiftly. And then when the laughter died down, I explained his issue with the little girl in the bathroom. Caroline and Kelly said very reasonable things, essentially: What did Gary expect the man to do as an alternative? When I got to the part about “Don’t touch that,” they nodded sagely.
I said, “Don’t tell me little girls touch their father’s penises.” Because I really thought that was next.
“Huh? No. It’s the floor. They always touch the floor.”
Kelly said, “No. The lock.” Then Caroline said, “Ahhhhhhh, yessssss, the lock.” Then they began comparing the contortions they have to go through to get two babies in the stall and get them out without making contact with any surface, especially the filthy filthy lock.
Whatever. Speaking of toilet locks, Dick Sneeze tells us that the public toilets in Paris are sometimes coin-operated booths on the street. You plug change into one that says … whatever the French word for Vacant is … and go in, and the door locks behind you. What is great is that after fifteen minutes, the door opens. Now, is it “the door unlocks?” and Dick was just vague, or Voila! The door flies open just as Gary makes his descent into Belarus.
3 responses to “Why Gary Isn’t a Mom”
While sitting in a cafe in Montparnesse, we saw a guy pee compiously on the sidewalk. What fun, we thought, we really are in Paree! The French patrons around us were furious, however, and made hissing noises, which is one way they express anger.
The pay-to-pee potties are TRUE. They are all over Europe. When my parents lived in The Hague, they each carried a ziplock baggie full of “Potty Euros”. We did the same thing when Freddie was in Germany 2 years ago.
I’ve never seen the doors swing open after 15 minutes, but I’ve heard that’s true, too.
Hattie – Ooo! Just like the end of Dangerous Liasons! I want to see hissing. Not enough to pee on the sidewalk, though.Erin G – Oh, good God. If the doors do swing open you’ll hear the screaming from France.