There are times every parent wishes they could pretend they didn't know their kid.
This weekend, was ours.
Sasha, my dear little boy...I know it wasn't your fault.
Yes, we were vigilent parents and we took you to the potty at the sandwich shop right before we went into the museum. Yes, you loudly announced to everyone as soon as we were in to see the Terra Cotta Soldiers exhibit that you had to potty again. You were a good boy and did your part. Yes, we were good parents and asked the closest National Geographic security person where the bathrooms were.
They said no one could get to them till you were out of the exhibit. We were not allowed to backtrack and go back to the beginning (the closest way out). And we would just have to progress thru quickly. We tried, bud. They were not moved by the sight of an adorable tot grabbing his crotch and doing the potty dance.
And so what happened, happened.
The dam broke. All over the floor in the middle of the exhibit while we were trying to run to the end so you could get to a potty. A ginormous puddle. All while you announced loudly how yucky and poopy you were.
Just in case there was someone who hadn't noticed you pulling your pants down and peeing.
And I'd only brought extra pants, I hadn't thought of socks and shoes (which were also soaked in urine, because you haven't yet figured out how to aim away from yourself).
And we cannot go back. Ever.
Too bad, because normally you LOVE museums. It's something that we have always been able to do with you. Even when you were new. I remember nursing you amidst the treasures of Tutanhkamun. Beneath the Spririt of St. Louis. Telling asking you what animals various skeletons are from.
Thankfully there are many others here. Ones you have not gotten us kicked out of.