Okay, I admit it. I am attracted to bathrooms. Specifically pubic bathrooms. This newfound fetish started with the 7-day road trip when it dawned on me that I could no longer fake it anymore. Since 18-months-old when Mommy started potty training me, I always knew the concept of bathrooms and doing my business in toilets.
But knowing did not mean I had to DO IT.
Fast forward 18 months later (now three years old), I am successfully still in diapers. But no way am I going to sit in a wet diaper on the car ride. I can’t even stand a drop of water on my shirt.
After four hours in my car seat, I was ready for the first bathroom stop and announced, “Potty!”. It was exhilarating watching Mommy fumbling on the map looking for the next exit while Daddy screaming, “HOLD IT!” Once we arrived at the gas station, Mommy and I bolted to the restroom.
Although it started as a necessity, it grew into an obsession.
I take every opportunity to check out the public toilets at the parks, restaurants, and gas stations. Even when I didn’t need to go. Of course, the parents never rejected me either. The word “potty” has some sort of magic to it that catches their attention and makes them drop whatever they’re doing to oblige to my command.
I just don’t know what it is about public bathrooms that are so attractive.
Perhaps I like the guessing game when Mommy points at the different placards on the doors, Men or Women. Or because Mommy always proudly cheered me on when I made a big dump; some things just never change. Or perhaps I enjoy the various bathroom designs across the nation, making mental notes to incorporate in my future lavatory. It would be very nice to have a bathroom with built-in sensors for the toilet, soap dispenser, door, sink, lights, and a full-body blow dryer – who needs towels anyways?
One thing I do know for sure – I never want to go into a men’s bathroom again, especially at gas stations where cleanliness is nonexistent.
I did so well refusing to pee, poop or toot in the diaper during the entire road trip that Mommy decided to hide my diapers when we finally arrived at my grandparents’ home. But it didn’t last long because I regressed to my old ways. Why should I stop eating or playing with my toys when I can just “let it go”? You know, following Frozen’s instructions.