Sunday, November 1

Lesson #9 - Always Know Where A Hospital Is

I was sitting in the house reminiscing the other day when I remember this hysterical event that occurred when I was younger (and if you happen to be my father, you should stop reading now).

So one day my family decides to go to the mall...which was a big deal when I was a kid because the closest mall was about an hour away (I know, feel bad for me...very bad). We all had a great time during this family outing. Before leaving the mall, my mom (what a wise woman) asked if I had to use the "little girls' room." When mom asks about the bathroom it usually means that she has to go and I get to tag along whether I liked it or not. Of course I thought to myself that I didn't have to go, but really I did and I realized this fact once we finally reached the cleanest women's restroom in the mall - at Nordstrom.

Note: Isn't it funny how parents always try to make the bathroom seem like a secret club by calling it the "little girls' room" or "little boys' room"?? It always baffled me as a child and, when I could ask on my own, I would say bathroom or restroom. Now, as a mother, I catch myself asking the customer service representative at any given store for the "little girls' room"...I just can't explain it.

As we walked out of the "little girls' room" my mom asked my dad if he had used the "little boys' room." He made a stink about being old enough to know when he did and did not have "to go" and the conversation ended there. Just like that.

The family piled into the car and we made our way back home. As I did - and still do - on car trips, I fell asleep in the back seat. There is just something about being a passenger in a car that makes me fall into a deep sleep - something I wish the babe would appreciate as much as I do. I digress.

I was abruptly awoken, a mere 10 minutes away from our home, when the car began whipping through what looked like a hospital parking lot. Immediately I asked if everything was okay, was someone hurt, why we were heading towards the emergency room entrance and if there was anything I could do. My mom hushed me and dad screeched to a halt in the closest spot to the ER Door. I have never seen a man jump out of a car so quickly in my life...I swear he broke the sound barrier with the way he ran towards the door. I stayed back in the car with my mom and we sat there for what seemed like FOREVER (though it was probably only a minute) before I asked what was wrong.

"Your father had to go to the bathroom. VERY badly. He couldn't wait until we got home and the hospital was the closest place to stop." It all made sense, I guess. If he would have gone when mom asked then he wouldn't have the issue he is faced with now. Time seemed to move like molasses, but dad finally emerged from the ER doors. He had a combination of looks on his face - victorious and embarrassed were the two that stood out. Being who I am, I just couldn't keep my mouth shut when he got back into the car. "Feeling better Old Bird," I asked, laughing (hysterically)!! Of course my dad muttered a few choice expletives under his breath...while I was almost peeing myself I was laughing so hard.

From then on, not only did I heed Mother Hen's advice about using the facilities, but I always made sure to make doubly sure I didn't have to go every time I passed a big blue "H" on the highway.


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