So this morning I decided on the whim to take my son to the library, because I was craving something new to dive into after I finish Jane Austen in Scarsdale ( hopefully soon ::crosses fingers:: ). This post isn’t really about the library though – what I’m about to tell you happened in the library parking lot, on the way home after checking out The Sweet Far Thing by Libba Bray and The Boy Next Door by Meg Cabot (because this growned ass woman has an obsession with young adult novels – deal with it).
We’d gotten ourselves into the car with little issue – he even climbed in himself for the first time like a big kid or something. I’d literally just turned the key when he began hooting and howling like a banshee. I turned around to see if he’d dropped his beloved toy of the moment and found to my surprise that he had somehow gotten his head stuck in a toilet. Or rather a Toilet Training Seat we bought a month or so back to keep in the car when we actually begin potty training – you know, a quick fix for pottying on the go when your tush is too small to prevent falling in.
Since my adorable two year old’s tush has not yet met this cute little seat, we haven’t forced him to stop playing with it when we’re taking a drive somewhere – I figure if he wants to make friends, for now, it won’t hurt him. Apparently I was wrong. There he was in all his glory, with an original potty hat, that he couldn’t get off. And he was not happy!
I struggled for quite some time, trying to angle it so it might slide off without hurting him (which he not too happily informed me I was failing at), hoping desperately that we wouldn’t have to drive to the ER and explain our situation to strangers (although truth be told I was also considering driving down the street to my husband’s office so he could share in the moment – and I might have except I didn’t really want to drive around with a toilet on my son’s head – it just didn’t seem like a safe idea in the event we got into an accident… yeah…).
Well by the grace of god I managed to get the darned thing off his head without ripping his scalp off and all was well. Except when I then took the seat away for the drive he was LIVID. The crazy loon still wanted to play with his beloved potty even after all that and could not be convinced as to why it wasn’t okay! Seriously?
So that’s my story – I must say if I hadn’t gotten two fun new books to read out of this situation it would have been a pretty miserable waste of an outing, so, thank god for books, if I do say so myself. And I do.