Our little family rarely goes out to eat. We don’t have the money for it, and when we do Dave and I usually try to get a babysitter and make it a date night. But Leah is so well behaved and enjoys a change of scenery, so we do eat out with her on occasion. Last night was one of those occasions.
We were sitting in a booth in a crowded restaurant when Leah loudly announced, “Mommy, I think I have to poop!”
Laughing, I grabbed her by the hand and we managed to make it across the restaurant by dodging waiters and going under, over, or around various other objects. We made it to the bathroom with Leah doing a little dance with a pained look on her face. I quickly covered the seat and helped her up.
Looking a bit panicked, Leah said, “But mom! I need some privacy!”
I signed and managed to turn around in the tiny bathroom stall and faced the wall.
“Don’t try to peek at me.” Leah said.
Yeah, I thought, like it’s really my greatest desire to watch this happen right now while our appetizer is probably arriving at the table and Dave is getting to dig in while it’s hot.
After a moment of staring at the door of the stall from up close I hear Leah sigh.
“Mommy,” she says, “I think I was wrong. I don’t have to go.”