We walked to the park last night.
Before we left, I had everyone use the toilet, because there are no bathrooms at the park.
They all complied.
We got to the park and the kids took off. They went to the sandbox, and to the slides, to the tire swing, and to the rope bridge.
I sat with DadGuy and we watched them play.
Daniel started to cry.
He came over to us. He needed to use the bathroom.
DadGuy said he'd run home and get the car and some new pants.
I said we didn't have time.
I took Daniel to a secluded grassy spot, pulled down his pants, and said "Okay. You can pee."
Except that he usually sits to do his business. He's too short to stand and pee in the toilet... so he sits.
He was confused.
He needed help.
I had to figure out how to help him, without getting either of us wet in the process.
I know how to hold girls, but a boy?
I picked him up, one hand under his chest, one under his knees. He was flat to the earth, facing down. "Okay, pee."
He did.
Neither of us were wet.
Success.
DadGuy pulled up a few minutes later and started to call for Daniel.
I said, don't worry about it. He went already.
DadGuy told me that was gross and kids play here and that's. just. gross.
I told him he didn't go on the playground, we went over *there* and it's fine.
DadGuy still thought it was gross.
I think he doesn't realize the ticking time bomb that is a two year old's bladder.
When they gotta go, they gotta go. They can't wait.
DadGuy sat back down, and we watched the kids play some more.
Then Daniel came over again.
"Pee?"
Three times that boy had to go. We were at the park less than an hour.
Someone really likes to go on the grass.
I may have created a monster.
