Taking Care of Number One

Going to the potty by yourself in a restaurant is a big deal when you are five and a half. Or, so it seems.

We went out today, and Little Z said,

"I have to go potty! Can I go by myself?"


"Where is it?"

"It's over there. The one with the lady in the dress and the sign that says, 'Women'."

"Okay," she said to BAH. "Give me the thumbs up if I'm going the right way!"

She started going in the right direction. Tentatively, she looked back at her parents, who both gave her the thumbs up and smiles of reassurance. We saw her enter the bathroom.

A few minutes later, she reappeared, and ran back to the table. She looked a bit concerned.

"Everything go okay?" I asked.


"Did you wash your hands?"


"You seem worried or something."

Her eyeballs sort of looked up at the ceiling for a second.

"It's just, well... I forgot to go pee after I went poop. Can I go back to the bathroom?"


Clearly, children are different from adults.

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