Imagine the setting:
A McDonald’s in the inner city area. This equals a tiny parking lot
that is always packed with cars and people. The drive thru line is long
and I’m querying the boys for their orders before we reach the speaker.
It’s fairly quiet in the car until I hear Count Dooku’s worried voice
say, “Mom,when we get home can we change my pants cause I fink I peed a
little in dem.”
My head wheels around and I reach into the back seat to feel his
pants. If they are indeed wet it must be a very tiny spot. I breathe a
small sigh of relief and then ask him the question with the obvious
answer, “Do you have to pee?”
“Yes” he says in a small voice.
The car in front of us pulls ahead.
“Why didn’t you tell me this before we left the museum?”
“Cause I didn’t feel like der was pee yet, but all da sudden I feel da pee.”
I snicker a little and drive forward again and then he continues in
an urgent voice as he grabs his pants, “I have to pee mom. I fink I’m
going to pee in da car.”
“Oh no you won’t!” I say as I drive forward up to the speaker.
“Can I take your order?” says the voice over the speaker.
“Yeah, just a second,” I say loudly and then to Count Dooku in the back, “Unbuckle and climb into the front seat right now.”
He does so, still holding himself. The anxious look in his eyes has
increased 10 fold and I’m flying through options in my brain as I blurt
out our order.
“I’d like two four piece nuggets, two small fries and a hamburger,”
and then to Count Dooku, “Ok, take your pants down a little buddy.”
Now what? Do I have him run across the way to the dumpster and pee
behind there? No, that won’t work, I’d have to drive forward and he’d
freak out thinking I was leaving him.
Do I open the door slightly and have him pee out onto the pavement? No, the folks in their cars behind us would see.
I pull forward again right as Count Dooku has finished pulling his
pants down enough to pee. I realize that we’re driving up to the window
and the cashier is going to see his naked nethers so I push him onto his
naked bum and pull his coat down.
“Don’t move!” I warn him
“Your total is $6.64,” says the cashier. I hand her my credit card, she swipes it and hands it back. I pull up a little.
“I’m gonna peeeeeeeee!”
Crap! What to do? What to do? I’m ready to throw the door open and
let him pee out of it when I see the 3/4 full water bottle on the floor.
It’s got a rather narrow opening but it will work. I roll the window
down and dump the water out.
We’re between the first and second window with one car in front of us
when I tell Count Dooku to start peeing. I’m holding the steering wheel
with my left hand, and the water bottle with my right. The car in front
of us drives away. It’s my turn to pull up but Count Dooku is still
peeing.
“Come on, come on!” I say. The lady at the second window is holding
our bag out of the window beckoning me to pull forward. I’m looking
right at her shrugging my shoulder and trying to clearly mouth, “One
second.”
She shakes her head and closes the window. Count Dooku is still
peeing. Finally he finishes up, hurriedly pulls his pants up and I drive
forward after rolling the tightly sealed water bottle under the seat.
The lady opens the window and thrusts the bag into my hands. Count Dooku
is climbing into the back seat and buckling his belt.
“I really fot I was gonna pee in da car mom,” he says, the anxiousness in his voice gone.
“I’m so glad you didn’t son,” I say, “next time, remind me to make
you pee before we go on a car ride, whether you think you need to or
not.”
0 comments:
Post a Comment