A few days ago I had the pleasure of traveling with my children. This usually provides plenty of opportunity for the girls to fight or complain about any number of issues. This particular day Claire decided to start complaining about her booster seat, something that had never bothered her in the past.
Claire- “I wish I NEVER had to be strapped in!”
Me- “Now you’re sounding like your Aunt Lynne. No, wait. That’s strapped down.”
The shopping expedition itself was fairly uneventful. They both had drinks with their lunch and that, of course, led to the need for a public restroom. I have explained the deal with not touching things but of course they always touch things anyway. I can hardly stand to even watch them it those situations but they both claimed that they really had to go.
We stopped at a gas station and as we walked in I noticed a vague sewer-like smell. I led them to the restroom door and told them that they could go in without me. I waited right by the door and was surprised when Katie raced back out within seconds.
Me- “Katie, I thought you had to go potty.”
Katie- “I do.”
Me- “Well then why didn’t you go?”
Katie, in a loud voice- “It was too dirty!”
The next day we were once again out when the bathroom issue came up. As usual, they made it seem like it was urgent. We quickly found a gas station and I rushed them in to locate the restroom. We walked to the back, following a Mexican guy. I could see by the sign that they just had the one restroom, I had little girls with a bathroom emergency and a guy that made it to the door before us. It was already not looking promising.
Then the guy started knocking on the door and speaking Spanish. We couldn’t hear anyone talking inside the restroom but there was the unmistakable sound of barfing. I abandoned any plans for that bathroom and herded them back to the car. On the way out the door, Claire was expressing her bewilderment.
Claire- “Why are we leaving? Because we can’t understand them?”
Katie, also somewhat confused- “Is this a Mexican place?”