A recent camping trip made me revisit a memory which occurred in the year 1983.
We had gone to Waskesui Lake for the annual family camping trip. We acquired a campsite right next to the washroom facilities for a possible Amber bathroom emergency. Amber, at the age of 3, was fully toilet trained but my Motherly-angst kicked in.
Picture it! A beautiful summer day. Sunny skies. A light breeze. Birds singing. Rod visits the royal throne. Magazine in hand, he embarks on a solitary journey. A minute or so goes by and Amber gets impatient. She knew where he was and decides to embark on that same path. Keep in mind, the path was only about 75 feet away. She was in my line of sight all the time. I watched her as she stood outside the men’s side of the washroom facilities.
Now picture this! A washroom facility made out of wood and metal compartments. Windows wide open to let the ominous odors out and the fresh air in. Rod was enjoying his peace and quiet when out of nowhere, a squeaky voice comes through echoing into every nook and cranny of that washroom. “Daddy! Are you in there? Are you taking a poop?”
Apparently, another occupant was in the facility and all Rod had to do was to remain quiet hoping this squeaky voice was directed to the other individual. Now every parent out there knows their child’s distinct voice. Like a group of penguins, you know the call of your mate. It is unique and it belongs to them. But Rod is stubborn and remains silent. Maybe Amber will tire and move on. But she kept it up. “Daddy! Are you in there? Are you taking a poop?”
Relief, as the other individual left and Rod was able to respond. By advising little Amber that yes indeed he was in the bathroom, he allowed her to satisfy her curiosity and yes indeed…move on.
theprosaiczoomer 