I’m not one to hang around a messy construction zone, especially when it’s in my house so Luke and I packed our bags and hit the road for a few days. In preparation for our road trip I needed to have the oil changed in my car, and the air pressure checked in the tires. Instead of going to my usual trusty mechanic I went to a different one, one that was near a restaurant so Luke and I could have lunch while we waited. Lunch came and went, and when we returned to the mechanic Luke decided he needed to go to the bathroom.
We walked into the “office” and were immediately hit in the face with the pungent odor of, well something pungent. It could have been the two dirty litter boxes, or maybe the fly-covered, open cans of cat food on the floor, but either way it was rank. I had a sinking feeling as I asked if they had a bathroom. The lady at the desk said, “Yes, let me see if it’s clean.” She then turned to right, leaned over, and said, “Yep, it’s clean.” I thought my eyes were deceiving me. There, in the very same room, was a toilet with a curtain in front of it. I thought I’d sooner die than let my kid use that bathroom, but the car wasn’t finished and Luke persisted. “Mom, I neeeeeed to go poopoo.”
For twelve long minutes I stood in that awful, stinky place while Luke made it worse. When he was finally finished we opted to sit in the hot car to wait out the rest of our service. As I helped Luke into the car I noticed his pants were wet. “Luke, did you peepee in your pants after all that sitting on the commode?”
He responded with, “No, Mom. I didn’t peepee. It’s just a little penis water.”
De. Liver. Me.