Our weekly swim session at camp started out normally enough today with a lot of splashing, filling up the watering can and other assorted two-year-old activities. (No, mommy does NOT enjoy having her feet watered. Yes, you can play with the rubber frog squirt toy.) But what began as a benign activity of some of the moms mistaking the frog’s water stream for a little boy taking a whiz turned into something worse. Reality.
As I was changing such little boy out of his swim diaper, I felt a pull and a tug and those dreaded words,
Mommy I have to go pee pee.
So I let him go pee pee outside. In the flowers. On the Temple lawn. Well, because that’s where camp is, and well, I didn’t have the foresight to run to the bathroom inside.
I’m going to hell.
The funny thing is, I totally thought that I had gotten away with the “sneaky pee.” I somehow thought that the butt naked boy with his back turned to the crowded lawn wouldn’t attract any unwelcome glares. But when we rejoined reality, I saw the teachers snicker and I knew it was over.
I let my kid pee on the Temple lawn.
Moms started exchanging stories. Tried to tell me they’d all been there before, rushing to find the nearest porcelain g-d. But none quite had defaced religious property. I’m not sure how toilet training could get much worse at this point.
I’m going to hell.
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If that is the only reason God has to send you to hell, you are doing well in life my friend. Really, all your son was doing was replenishing God’s great earth.