Don’t roll your eyes, but Luke was a rockstar at potty training. I know that sounds like a brag and kind of obnoxious, but it is true. Let’s be clear: we have other issues. Plenty of them. But potty training was pretty NBD. No Big Deal. No Baby Diapers.
One Saturday Luke and I went to Chick-Fil-A for lunch with my friend, Erin, and her boys, Ty and Ash. Luke had been wearing big-boy underwear consistently for several months at this point. I was one proud mama. I was still carrying a diaper bag, but there were no diapers in it; I mostly used it for toting hand sanitizer, fruit snacks and one just-in-case pair of undies.
I took him to the potty when we got there, before we even ordered. Then, after nibbling through his nuggets and fruit and draining an apple juice box, I took him to the bathroom again. There were ample opportunities to go. The situation was well in hand.
Then we moved our party of five to the play area. Chick-Fil-A, bless you for having a play area. I do believe your bottom line must benefit from keeping this kid-friendly feature. But I digress…
The boys are playing happily and staying busy. Erin and I are sitting on the bench in the little room, chatting away. There are a handful of other kiddos and maybe one or two other moms. Cordial smiles and pleasantries, but Erin and I were pretty locked in on our conversation.
A little girl, maybe 4 years old, comes toward us—actually toward her mom—but close enough to break through our bubble and get our attention. She’s says there’s something wet somewhere in the play equipment.
We all try to help her identify who, what and where. Maybe a drink spilled? Maybe someone had an accident? Where was the wetness?
I immediately scan the area for all the potential pee-ers. Some of the kids were pretty little, probably still in diapers. At that moment in time (Erin, I love you), I even suspected it could have been Ty or Ash. The thought that it might have been Luke did not come close to crossing my mind since he’d peed not even 10 minutes ago.
One by one, kids start crawling out of crevices and corners. We pat them down, asking questions. This one’s clear. That one’s clear. This one’s butt is dry, but they have some wetness on the back of their shirt. Huh? Ty and Asher were exonerated, and I still hadn’t seen Luke.
At this point, I anxiously uttered, “Well, it couldn’t be Luke because I just took him potty a few minutes ago…” so that everyone knew what was up. In an effort to look like I was doing my part, I yelled his name to come out so I could look him over and clear him of wrongdoing.
By this time, the little girl—a veritable playground detective, I tell you—had identified the scene of the crime: the slide. Urine was streaming down the slide. Lovely. A mass evacuation began.
Never one to rush, a minute or so later, Luke emerged from some steps. Front side: dry!
But then… sure enough, I felt his backside… and it was soaking.
“Luke, did you pee your pants?” I tried to sound calm, but I was PISSED.
He nodded nonchalantly like it was NBD. No embarrassment. No remorse. Meanwhile, I was mortified. Pride comes before the fall, people.
As I spat out “I am so sorry!”s to the grossed-out children and adults, I stripped Luke of all his pee-drenched clothes, grabbed the just-in-case undies from the diaper bag and shimmied the fresh pair up his clammy legs. There was nothing gentle or patient about this process; I was, in Tim’s words, “in full froth.” Erin surely knew we’d laugh about it later, but in the moment, she was very supportive—saying things like “It happens” and “How can I help?”
Needless to say, playtime was over. Swift exits were being made by everyone who had previously been enjoying their time in the play space. Moms were gathering up bags and kids were putting on shoes as fast as humanly possible.
Someone needed to go tell an employee about the accident so it could be dealt with. Um, I guess that person should be me?! While Erin is getting Ty and Ash ready to go and watching Luke, I walk out of the play room to break the news of the peeing incident to some unfortunate employee. My eyes dart from side to side, scanning the restaurant. Bingo: I walk up to a teenage boy with shaggy hair who is holding a broom and dust pan. He looks like he’s loving life anyway…
“Sir, I’m sorry. But someone’s child had an accident in the play room. I believe it was in the slide. I’m so sorry…”
“Um, ok. Thanks for letting us know…”
My pleasure.
Erin and I get our act together and bust out of there ASAP. Luke toddles back out through the restaurant without pants. I’m prodding him, pushing on his back the entire time, because heaven knows, he ain’t in no hurry. Some people notice the kid isn’t wearing pants, but for the most part, it’s NBD.
We finally make it outside, alive and dry. Normally, Erin and I would have some parting words, talk about what we’re doing that night—but not today! I hightail it to the Honda and squeal out of there in a urine-fueled rage.
My mortification has now mellowed to a yellow-tinged memory.
Yep, that’s my kid! The kid who peed in the slide at Chick-Fil-A. One proud mama.
Sarah Weller 