If you have a small daughter

If you have a small daughter, you probably face a similar dilemma when she says:

"Daddy, I need to poop."

Men’s or ladies´? Naturally I take her to the men’s toilet, disregarding her protests:

"But this is a boys´ woom! And I’m a gal."

"Bad luck for you, I’m not going to the ladies. Why don’t you like it here?"

At that moment, Vicky uttered her memorable sentence:

"Cause it’s full of wee-wees."

There was no arguing with that. She was right. To a considerable extent. One man standing at the urinal had to stop what he was doing due to laughing.

"And boys are pigs. Joey in my class says he once managed to pee up to the ceiling lights."

"Well, what a feat," I appreciated the boy’s performance, pressing her into a cabin.

"And ouw teacher was just asking him what he thought he was doing when he peed at her too."

More men at the urinals had to stop, but Vicky did not mind their laughter at all.

"And ouw teacher stahted scweaming, so a cleaning lady wan in."

There was a sudden silence in the room, full of tense anticipation. Vicky undid her trousers and I put her up on the toilet seat.

"And he peed at her, too."

The men’s room turned into a comedy show.

"Better press hard," I told her in a defeated tone.

"I can’t. Can you help me?"

I knew everyone was listening, but what else could I do? Otherwise we would have been bogged down there for ages.

"Heeeh..." I feigned grunting.

And Vicky followed up with her: "Heeeh..."

And the next-door cabin chimed in with another: "Heeeh..."

A couple of voices from the urinals joined in: "Heeeh...."

We all turned into a Prague Pressing Choir.

Enchanted with her success, Vicky made a few more tries. The main thing was it all worked nicely, and poo-poos began dropping down, which she commented on like this: "Gee, my belly has spilled out completely." And then she crowned it with the words:

"I’ll make a family of nice chocolate anacondas, shall I?" she rejoiced. I only managed to nod resignedly.

"I thought I’d just lay a faht, but now I see a whole family has been bohn," she said, kicking at the toilet bowl.

"I guess I won’t finish today..." a voice at one urinal said when laughter died down.

Finished. While I was looking for a pack of wet wipes, Vicky waited for a moment, then decided it was taking me too long and said:

"You’ve got no sodding TPs, have you? And I’ll have to stand here for houws and wait until I dwy." Then I found toilet paper, wiped her and dressed her. Vicky wanted to flush the toilet herself. I let her flush it, which she did with the words:

"Bye bye, my little poos! Have a nice time, swim well and no mischief down there."

By now I could easily start collecting admission at the urinals. I tried to take my daughter out of the room. While pulling up her sleeves to wash her hands, she came up with her most damning question of the day:

"Daddy, what about the little poos who have no mummy or daddy?"

I chose to swallow my explanation that in such a case they would most probably be shitty orphans, and I quickly washed her hands. Finally, there was more room at the urinals, and I heard one of the customers tell his buddy:

"It’s a great fun here, we’ve got to come more often."

Well.

We won’t.

Never ever.