Expressway: An awkward moment in motherhood
Photo of Phil Harwood, son of Cookie Harwood of Freeport. Photo was taken in about 1978 when Phil was about 4. Credit: Cookie Harwood
One crisp November morning in 1978, as I sent my 9-year-old daughter, Nancy, off to school, I focused on the clock on my kitchen wall. It was nearly 9 and my sister, Pat, would be honking outside the house for me in less than an hour.
A day earlier, my sister and I both received our Christmas club checks in the mail. We made a plan to do some Christmas shopping. She would take her 3-year-old daughter, Kathleen, and I would take my 4-year-old son, Philip.
Philip had been potty trained for more than a year. I had taken him into ladies rooms a few times, but that was as much as he knew about public toilets. Now that he was 4, I knew it was time to introduce him to the men's room.
It made me uneasy. I was thinking that I might be able to avoid the ordeal if I had him go to the bathroom right before we left the house and I didn't give him any drinks while we were out. I should have known better.
We pulled into the parking lot at a TSS store in Oceanside and got the kids out of their car seats. We held them in our arms and placed each in the little metal seat in our shopping carts. We removed hats, gloves and coats and began to shop. We went from one department to another, talking and laughing while the kids enjoyed the decorations and lights on the beautiful Christmas trees.
We had been in the store only an hour when Kathleen said she had to go potty. Philip piped up that he had to go, too.
"Oh honey," I said, "are you sure, or are you just saying that because Kathleen said it?"
"No mommy," he said, "I really have to go, too."
We found the bathrooms at the back of the store and got the kids out of the carts. As my sister took Kathleen into the ladies room, Philip started to follow. I stopped him.
"No honey, you're a big boy now," I said in an encouraging tone. "Today you're going to use the bathroom for boys. Kathleen and Aunt Patti are going into the bathroom for girls."
He looked at me and to my surprise didn't much care one way or the other. I explained that I couldn't go in with him, but I would wait right here, in this very spot. Then, before I allowed him passage into the yellowish hallway that loomed before us, I wanted to offer one more bit of valuable information. I crouched and looked into his eyes to make sure I'd be clear.
"Now honey, just undo the little snap right here, and then just go potty like you do at home," I said. "Then wash your hands and come right out. I'm not going to move. Call me if you need me. OK?"
"OK, Mommy," he said, and off he went. My little 4-year-old was growing up before my eyes.
I was anxious as I waited. I was about to call out to him when to my delight he walked out.
"Honey, how did it go? Were you all right? Did you have a hard time with the snap?"
He looked up at me somewhat exasperated. As he tucked his blue flannel shirt into his pants, he said, "I did great Mommy, but some nut in there is peeing in the water fountain!"
Oh noooo. I'd forgotten about the urinals!
There I stood, looking at my little guy and realizing, no matter how hard parents try to cover every base, to explain every single thing, we will always, more than likely, miss something.
His next lesson: urinals!
Reader Cookie Harwood lives in Freeport.
