Wanna Know something great???

So I am working with my mom to de-junk the trunk (house). Whilst de-junking we found this little number. We would like to thank the Queen Aunt Colleen for this treasure.

Potty Talk- Love Being a Mother

A 3 year old tells all from his mother's restroom stall. By Shannon Popkin

My little guy, Cade, is quite a talker. He loves to communicate and does it quite well. He talks to people constantly, whether we're in the library, the grocery store or at a drive thru window.

People often comment on how clearly he speaks for a just-turned-3 year old. And you never has to ask him to turn up the volume. It's always fully cranked. There have been several embarrassing times that I've wished the meaning of his words would have been masked by a not-so-audible voice, but never have I wished this more than last week at Costco.

Halfway through our shopping trip, nature called. So I took Cade with me into the restroom. If you'd been one of the ladies in the restroom that evening, this is what you would have heard coming from the second to last stall:

"Mommy, are you gonna go potty? Oh! Why are you putting the toiwet papper on the potty, Mommy? Oh! You gonna sit down on da toiwet paper now? Mommy, what are you doing? Mommy, are you gonna go stinkies on the potty?"

At this point I started mentally counting how many women had been in the bathroom when I walked in. Several stalls were full...4?...5? Maybe we could wait until they all left before I had to make my debut out of this stall and reveal my identity.

Cade continued, "Mommy, you ARE going stinkies aren't you? Oh, dats a good girl, Mommy! Are you going to get some candy for going stinkies on the potty? Let me see doze stinkies, Mommy! Oh...Mommy! I'm trying to see in dere. Oh! I see dem. Dat is a very good girl, Mommy. You are going to get some candy!

I heard a few faint chuckles coming from the stalls on either side of me. Where is a screaming newborn when you need one? Good Grief! This was really getting embarrassing. I was definitely waiting a long time before exiting. Trying to divert him, I said, "Why don't you look in Mommy's purse and see if you can find some candy. We'll both have some!"

"No, I'm trying to see doze more stinkies. Oh! Mommy!" He started to gag at this point. "Uh oh, Mommy. I fink I'm gonna frow up. Mommy, doze stinkies are making me frow up!! Dat is gross!!" As the gags became louder, so did the chuckles outside my stall. I quickly flushed the toilet in hopes of changing the subject. I began to reason with myself: Okay, There are four other toilets. If I count four flushes, I can be reasonably assured that those who overheard this embarrassing monologue will be long gone.

"Mommy! Would you get off the potty, now? I want you to be done going stinkies! Get up! Get up!" He grunted as he tried to pull me off. Now I could hear full blown laughter. I bent down to count the feet outside my door.

"Oh, are you wooking under dere, Mommy? You wooking under da door? What were you wooking at, Mommy? You wooking at the wady's feet?" More laughter. I stood inside the locked door and tried to assess the situation.

"Mommy, it's time to wash our hands, now. We have to go out now, Mommy." He started pounding on the door. "Mommy, don't you want to wash your hands? I want to get out!!

I saw that my "wait 'em out" plan was unraveling. As I sheepishly opened the door and found a sink I thought, 'Where is the fine print on the "motherhood contract" where I signed all my privacy away?'

But as my boy gave me a big, cheeky grin while he rubbed bubbly soap between his chubby little hands, I thought, I'd sign it all away again, just to be known as Mommy to this little fellow.

(Shannon Popkin is a freelance writer and mother of three. She lives with her family in Grand Rapids, Michigan, where she no longer uses public restrooms.)

My mom and I were rolling as we sat there under piles of papers, reading this story!!!!

Hope you have a great day!