OK, I can blame no one else but myself for allowing this fiasco to take place.
You see, you dads out there, how many of you have actually brought your 2-year old son to the toilet and made him wait for you to pee?
Mums would know what to do --- just bring them to the toilet cubicle! It's a no brainer for the ladies.
For the men, ermm, you have options.
Option 1: Bring them into the cubicle and make them wait as you complete what you have to do, whether it is big or small.
I have been adopting this option consistently without any trouble. I remember the first time I brought him into the cubicle for me to do execute my 'small business', I found him leaning from behind my legs and peering at the curious site of daddy projecting a fountain into the toilet bowl. I was half expecting him to actually play with the stream (he usually likes playing with water) and so I quickly did the deed and closed shop.
Option 2: Do your deed in the urinal, praying that your son behaves
With that, I mean that every dad hopes that their son does not stick their hand into the urinals and explore the bacteria count in the toilet.
It was on this particular day, when I had just picked up Marc from childcare, that i needed to use the loo for 'small business'. And so I parked the car and walked into the nearby toilet.
I decided to take a chance. There was no one in the toilet. I felt confident about doing a neat and quick job. So I headed to a urinal.
Now, the toilet has a row of about 10 urinals.
Yikes!
But I shall forge on.
"Son, you wait here. Daddy will be right with you. Wait wait."
Marc looked curiously around the toilet as Daddy did the pee.
I kept my eye on my boy, as if my stare could direct his every movement.
But of course that did not work. For my boy is a smart and inquisitive chap who decided that it was time for him to learn new things and experience new sensations.
I was helpless as I saw him walk up to urinal number 6 (I was at number 8) and reach into the urinal.
You know this scene --- child reaches out to touch the forbidden fruit and dad yells out a 'NOooooo' in slow motion...but to no avail.
What you see next is Marc holding up the cake of deodorant found in urinals, and he smiles at Daddy, showing his new found prize.
The subsequent scene is really not much to mention, but basically, close shop fast fast and then grab my son, dunk him into the sink and was, wash, wash, scrub, scrub, scrub.
And of course, I have an alcohol based sanitizer in the car to top off the decontamination process.
As I buckled him into the child seat, I looked at him with a mixture of disgust and a tinge of admiration. Digust is self explanatory. But the admiration part, yeah, it was like my son had gone where no sane person would have gone (no, my son is NOT insane, thank you). And yet, I was tempted to ask my son how it felt like being so brave to hold up a cake of urinal deodorant.
I am pretty sure that if he could string his sentences right, he would say something like, "Oh, it was nothing really, dad. This one was dry, not wet and dripping like the others at Vivocity."
Can you just see me beaming with pride?