Now, I'm 24 year old. I not old, but I'm not exactly young. It's been awhile since my mom picked out my outfit, tied my shoes, did my laundry or changed my diaper. I've known for some time how to use the toilet, and haven't gone in my pants for at least a week! I don't mean to brag or nothing, but I can tell when I need to use the bathroom about thirty to fourty-five minutes before I actually have to go. I guess this is one of those things you forget to appreciate as you get older, because life was not always so easy.
Here's the thing with kids. When they say they have to go to the bathroom, they mean, they have to go to the bathroom. Right now. Right then. EMERGENCY. Doesn't matter who you're with, doesn't matter where you have to be. When they gotta go, they gotta go.
As previously mentioned, everyday Filippo and I journey the thirty minute ride to his ice-skating with the u-bahn. We leave from school, where there is a bathroom, and go straight there, where there is also a bathroom. There are, however, no bathrooms on the u-bahn, and no bathrooms on the seven minute walk from the u-bahn station to Olympic Park.
For the third time today, along our journey, Filippo stops me and says, "Mimi, I have to go." and I ask him, "Can you hold it?" and he says, "No." I calmly explain to him that we are only a three minute walk from a bathroom, if he could just wait until then, he could use the toilet. With the most frantic look on his face, he starts to cry. "Mimi, I don't want to go in my pants!", he wailed. I asked him, "Filippo, if you had to go so badly, why didn't you tell me sooner? Remember last time? You have to tell me before you're going go in your pants so I can find a toilet." He starts to cry harder. "I have to go right now!" Not knowing what to do, I look around me. I ask myself: What would Tracy Jordan do? There's no bush, no fence, no mason jars. Just cars, and one thin tree. I mean, the kid doesn't want to pee his pants. Frankly, I don't want him to pee his pants either... That'd be so gross. So, having exhausted all other options, I give him the nod, and, in the middle barrier of the Auto Bahn, he runs behind the thin tree, drops his pants, and let it all loose.
Crisis averted.
Here's the thing with kids. When they say they have to go to the bathroom, they mean, they have to go to the bathroom. Right now. Right then. EMERGENCY. Doesn't matter who you're with, doesn't matter where you have to be. When they gotta go, they gotta go.
As previously mentioned, everyday Filippo and I journey the thirty minute ride to his ice-skating with the u-bahn. We leave from school, where there is a bathroom, and go straight there, where there is also a bathroom. There are, however, no bathrooms on the u-bahn, and no bathrooms on the seven minute walk from the u-bahn station to Olympic Park.
For the third time today, along our journey, Filippo stops me and says, "Mimi, I have to go." and I ask him, "Can you hold it?" and he says, "No." I calmly explain to him that we are only a three minute walk from a bathroom, if he could just wait until then, he could use the toilet. With the most frantic look on his face, he starts to cry. "Mimi, I don't want to go in my pants!", he wailed. I asked him, "Filippo, if you had to go so badly, why didn't you tell me sooner? Remember last time? You have to tell me before you're going go in your pants so I can find a toilet." He starts to cry harder. "I have to go right now!" Not knowing what to do, I look around me. I ask myself: What would Tracy Jordan do? There's no bush, no fence, no mason jars. Just cars, and one thin tree. I mean, the kid doesn't want to pee his pants. Frankly, I don't want him to pee his pants either... That'd be so gross. So, having exhausted all other options, I give him the nod, and, in the middle barrier of the Auto Bahn, he runs behind the thin tree, drops his pants, and let it all loose.
Crisis averted.
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