We went out for Mexican food last night. An interesting choice, since I failed to drink any water during the day, but that’s not where this is going. Right before our food came, Maggie said she needed to go to the bathroom.
We went. She went. I answered 20 questions about the soap dispenser, the paper towel holder, and the potty doors.
We got back to the table just after our food arrived. (Which is far better than when she used to wait for the food to arrive and then announce she needed to go to the bathroom.)
We ate. My sodium levels crept up near just plain licking a hunk of salt, but I love, love, love chips. (I had been thinking about chips and salsa for many days after pooping out on friends after I had chosen the Mexican restaurant.)
Right before we left, Maggie said she had to go to the bathroom again. The second visit always means get-comfortable-this-might-take-a-few-minutes.
We were the only ones in the bathroom (this is an important detail that must be investigated on each visit.) Right after someone else walked in, Maggie announced she was going to poop. (Newsflash: I already knew that.)
“You don’t need to announce that, Maggie.”
“Well, there are other people in here now and they don’t need to know.” (Unlike, apparently, my blog readers. Heh.)
“Is it a girl or a woman or both?”
“She is a woman.” I now am beginning to laugh because this poor woman came in to go the bathroom and now she is being talked about openly, but by a child who doesn’t realize how openly.
“Well, I’m done. It was only two plops. They were leftovers. You know, like when we have leftovers at home for dinner? Just like that.”
The woman had come out and was washing her hands. She was laughing so hard she almost teared up. She and Maggie met at the sinks.
“Would you like to use this sink?” she asked Maggie, leaving the water on.
“No thanks. I like this one. You better turn that water off though. That kills the fishes.”
“Oh! OK. Thanks.” She was still laughing as she left.
We continued the killing the fishes conversation and added a little we don’t need three paper towels because that kills the trees and we were on our way to the door.
As we passed our restroom friend, I could tell she had come out and told her significant other a little about her interesting encounter in the bathroom. She was pointing Maggie out to him. And Maggie had no idea that she was being talked about or that anything she had said was worth talking about.
As we left the restaurant, there was some great music playing. Since we were already feeling a little silly, we started shaking our tail-feathers. Think salsa dancing for the very clumsy. We were in a patio area that was fairly secluded and we went a little crazy. Then I realized there was a window right next to us and about 16 women who were having some sort of meeting were watching us. In that moment, I decided I didn’t care what people thought and we danced our way out to the car.
I don’t know if Maggie will have memories of the rare occasions where fun just happens. But I hope she does. It’s a lot more likely when you don’t care what other people think.