You know those portable toilets you see at constructions sites or big festivals? Well there's a ton of construction in Maine this spring and these potties are everywhere. The girls are curious about everything, so they asked about these. Not knowing how to get into all the details given their limited vocabulary, Colleen and I shorthanded it by explaining they are policemans pottys.
Fast forward to last weekend. We are driving home from a graduation party in Bangor (about 140 miles north of here) and Meron decides she has to go to the bathroom. Those of you familiar with that stretch of road know there's a restroom about every 30 minutes. Luckily we were just coming up on an exit ramp, so I took it, thinking I would find a wooded place to take Meron off road.
At the top of the exit ramp, Meron suddenly exclaims "Policemans Potty!!". and insisted she must use it. I'm thinking this is a real blessing, until I opened the car door and caught a whiff. It was just rank. But the seat was clean and it had paper, so it was go time.
Meron was so proud of herself using a Policemans Potty. She got back into the car and started bragging about it to Emmy. So, of course, Emmy had to go potty. Egad. Pass me some oxygen.
So Emmy gets to the potty, opens the door, catches a whiff, screams 'Yucky!!", and decides she does not have to go potty after all. Amen.
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