When I picked up the Gort from school yesterday, we headed for the playground. The weather was unbelievably beautiful and I had nowhere else to be. Except at home, dealing with the laundry and the chaos. It was a no-brainer, really. I was standing under a tree, talking to a couple of other moms, when the Hen ran towards me.
‘I need to go pee.’
It was an urgent matter, I could tell. After all, the kid had recently downed an entire bottle of water. But we were at a playground. With no restroom facilities. I suppose I could have tried running to the school, even though the school day was over. Or I could have loaded my posse into the car-van and hightailed it home. Even though the Hen didn’t look like he’d make it.
There was, of course, the option of having him pee in the expansive field beside the playground. But there were no hiding spots – it’s a school field, after all – and I’m the type of person who prefers not to have the school community look on as her three year old pees in the grass.
So I led him back to the car-van, with the hope that I’d figure out a solution to my dilemma by the time we got there. Maybe there was a big bowl in the car. Or maybe the potty-chair had magically been left in the car and I’d just ‘forgotten’ about it.
Or maybe I’d cleaned out the car recently and there were no receptacles of any kind. Except an empty wipes container. Of the flat, travel-sized, variety.
After our make-shift pit stop, we headed back to the playground where I rejoined the mom-versation. One of the moms’ chocolate Lab had apparently grown tired of waiting in the car while everyone else played. She’d jumped through the [open] window and hightailed it to the playground. Which is not exactly a ‘dogs-allowed’ kind of environment.
But, seeing as it was a benign chocolate Lab, the mom decided to finish her conversation before herding the dog back to the car. Except the lovely beast squatted beside a tree……
‘Oh no, oh noooo,’ the mom yelled, clearly in a pickle. Dog poop at a playground is the ultimate faux pas. She frantically scanned her girls’ pile of belongings for anything she could use to retrieve the social disaster waiting for her by the tree. Her eyes landed on the plastic ziploc bag holding her first grader’s home reading assignment. With the home reading dumped summarily on the ground, she ran to the tree to remove her dog’s ‘thanks for letting me stay in the car’ gift.
‘It’s supposed to snow this weekend,’ the other mom informed me after we’d raved about the perfect nearly eighty degree weather.
‘Noooooooo,’ I nearly cried at the news that summer was officially over. I retrieved my boys and we headed to the car. The last day of summer called for gelato. And a quick snack of salami sandwiches. And playing outside until 6.