As background, I spent most of my childhood thinking that a public toilet seat could possibly kill me, based on the fact that my mom was careful to cover those toilet seats with a comprehensive layer of toilet paper before letting us come near them. I'm not quite as germophobic, although I still use the toilet paper trick. Anna never seemed bothered by public toilet seats in the past--in fact, she decided to toilet train herself on our trip to DC and New York last spring, and was eager to use every single public toilet between Manhattan and Daytona Beach.
Well, things have changed.
About two hours into our flight from Dallas to Honolulu, she announced she needed to go. I took her to the airplane bathroom and managed to wedge both of us inside and close the door. Anna took a long look at the toilet, then looked at me and solemnly said, "Mama, I can't use dat potty."
We went back and forth for a bit, me explaining that it was the only available potty for the next 6 hours, Anna vehemently refusing to sit on it. Finally, I just picked her up and plopped her on the toilet seat. She did her business, but with a big scowl on her face, saying "Dis is not a good idea. Dis is a bad, bad idea."
The next day, after we finished breakfast at Anthony's Coffee House in Paia, we all decided to use their facilities since we weren't sure where we'd encounter restrooms along the Hana Highway. Will and John went first; I knew there might be a problem when they got back and John was shaking his head. He handed me the key to the toilet, attached to a big spoon (never a good sign), and Anna and I walked outside along an alley to the bathroom, located outside on the back of the restaurant.
We opened the door. Anna just looked at me and said, "No."
I tried to entice her by putting some toilet paper down.
"No. Dat's a dirty potty!! Dat's a very dirty potty, Mama!"
So I gave her the airplane treatment and just put her on it. She complained the entire time and let me know that she was very, very unhappy with where she'd had to park her tush while on this vacation.
I told her Nana would understand. :-)
We went back and forth for a bit, me explaining that it was the only available potty for the next 6 hours, Anna vehemently refusing to sit on it. Finally, I just picked her up and plopped her on the toilet seat. She did her business, but with a big scowl on her face, saying "Dis is not a good idea. Dis is a bad, bad idea."
The next day, after we finished breakfast at Anthony's Coffee House in Paia, we all decided to use their facilities since we weren't sure where we'd encounter restrooms along the Hana Highway. Will and John went first; I knew there might be a problem when they got back and John was shaking his head. He handed me the key to the toilet, attached to a big spoon (never a good sign), and Anna and I walked outside along an alley to the bathroom, located outside on the back of the restaurant.
We opened the door. Anna just looked at me and said, "No."
I tried to entice her by putting some toilet paper down.
"No. Dat's a dirty potty!! Dat's a very dirty potty, Mama!"
So I gave her the airplane treatment and just put her on it. She complained the entire time and let me know that she was very, very unhappy with where she'd had to park her tush while on this vacation.
I told her Nana would understand. :-)
1 comment:
I am permanently scarred at the idea that my precious Anna parked her tush directly on the toilet seats of DC and NY....of all places!
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