Pee Pee on the Wall

I knew it was an immediate requirement the moment he I looked at his face. He had his nose scrunched up and his brows furrowed. "I need to go potty, Mama."

My own face fell, "Really?" We're just two weeks out of diapers; this was serious.

I looked out at the busy road in front of us, then glanced at my watch, estimating how much time we had before the bus would arrive. Moments before I had lamented over us missing the earlier one by seconds. It meant 15 more minutes in the cold, English drizzle. Even in the shelter of the bus stop we were getting wet. The misty rain seems to come from every direction.

We were a 5 to 10 minute walk from the nearest public anything. Missing this bus would mean missing the next train and I'd be walking home from the station in the dark, in the rain, with three children. No way.

I glanced around. No one else was at the bus stop. The Boy hadn't gone standing up yet without getting us both wet, but it was time to try again. Behind the bus shelter was a brick wall about as tall as him. It wound up to a higher level where row houses stood. The top layer of brick was crumbling, likely from children walking along the ledge - the very reason we missed the first bus. I had stopped to tell Nature Girl to get down, then turned to see our bus passing right by the stop. Now I was grateful for those few seconds we were delayed.

The space between the shelter and the wall was less than a foot wide, perfect for covert pottying. I pulled down his trousers and underwear, held them back and said, "Can you pee on the wall? Make it hit the brick wall." His aim was perfect. We were both relieved.

I pulled up his dry clothes and watched the rain wash away the evidence at his feet. Good thing he was wearing rain boots.

Photo by Elycefeliz via Flickr