Bathroom Break

Laila and I are at Panera Bread, enjoying a warm cup of coffee and a bagel. She's supposed to be sleeping. Usually she sleeps for 2-3 hours at a time when we're in a public place. It gives me a chance to get some work done.

Except now the pink monster has opened her eyes. She's looking around and starting to grunt. I can see it on her face....Oh no....now I hear it. It's like a volcano erupting. Again. And again. I can only imagine what her diaper must look like right now.

What to do...what to do.... I can't take my bagel to the bathroom, can I? If I leave it on the table, will someone clean it up? I can't leave my laptop and purse out here either. What to do? I wonder how long she'll sit there before she gets fussy? Oh my--I think she just went again.

Why are kids always like this? Connor is notorious for having to go at the worst times. On trips to Chick-fil-A, as soon as I manage to get everyone settled at the table, ketchup distributed, straws put in drinks, the whole nine yards, Connor inevitably announces that he has to go potty. When a three year old has to go potty, it usually means he had to go potty ten minutes ago. So I pack up the baby, grab my purse, and escort Connor to the bathroom, all the while cursing under my breath and wondering why I even bother trying to leave the house in the first place. Connor is also notorious for suddenly having to go potty whenever we're traveling on the interstate. He has a knack for announcing it just as we're passing the last exit for miles and miles and miles. And as if that isn't challenging enough, he announces that he has to go poopy, thwarting my plans to just pull over and let him go in the grass.

Laila is squirming now. She's smiling her cute devilish smile....I think she knows what she's done, and I'm pretty sure she did it deliberately. Nothing is ever easy, not when there's a three month old in tow. But for now, as long as she's giving me that cute little smile, I may just let her sit in the poopy.