Unanswered Prayers

Friday night we went to our Synagogue's monthly Tot Shabbat.

My kids love it.  They load up on kosher food, enjoy some great music, and run around like maniacs until I drag them kicking and screaming into the van.

Friday evening was a particular lovely night.  After the service, all the kids were running around outside in the Holocaust Garden, uplifting, I know.

Mid-stride, Big E froze and declared the four words I HATE HATE HATE to hear in public.

I HAVE TO POOP!

All that running had done the trick.

I ask a friend to look after Little E so he doesn't take a swim in the water fountain and begin the bathroom sprint with Big E.

We run down the hallway with the pictures of the old Rabbis and ancient artifacts.  I feel like they are watching us.

I HAVE TO POOP!  I HAVE TO POOP!  I HAVE TO POOP!

I'm praying he isn't interrupting the regular services.

We buzz by an older lady walking in the direction of the restroom.  Since I'm already praying, I pray this lady isn't also headed to our destination.

We walk in and it is deserted.

I rush Big E into a stall while he does the dance.  I hoist him up on the toilet.  He looks up at me and smiles.

Then I hear footsteps and a stall door shut.

Dang.  We are not alone.

I know what's coming next.  My favorite part. The narration.

First he whispers.

i'm doing it.

Then louder.

I'M DOING IT, MOMMY!

It's not like he was having a baby, it's just a BM.

I try to shhh Big E, but it was no use.

I DID IT!  I MADE DIRTS.

IT IS YELLOW AND ORANGE FROM MY CARROTS.

Please, please, please stop describing it.  We are not THAT kind of family.

I hear the lady washing her hands.

We exit the stall.

Time to face the music.

I smile politely at her.

She doesn't say anything to us.

THANK GOODNESS!

I couldn't tell if she was completely mortified by Big E or just shocked into silence.

Either way, I was relieved to exit the scene of the crime and release him into the herd of children running rampant in the garden.

If things are awkward now, I just can't wait until Mr. Yoy introduces him to the urinal.  Oy.