A bathroom in Boca...

 

Daniel and I went to Grandpa's (my Dad's) office today to meet him for lunch. Dad had been outside when we pulled up, and he waited and walked us in. Just as we got off the elevator Daniel indicated that he needed to use the bathroom. As I had some photocopies to make, Grandpa graciously offered to take Daniel for me.

A few moments later I hear my Dad come back into the office and tell the receptionist "He locked the door! Now he can't open it." I immediately dropped what I was doing and rushed to the bathroom, my Dad at my heels muttering, "He closed it and locked it. I didn't know he was going to lock it!"

When I walked into the otherwise blessedly empty Men's room (please keep your cackling to yourself), Daniel was happily chattering away, flushing the toilet repeatedly (if they made toilet flushing an Olympic sport my kid would get the gold). Meanwhile my Dad was trying to figure out how to unlock the door. Silly me, to think Dan might be scared and upset because he couldn't get out of the toilet stall.

"Daniel, come out of there." I say, and he looks under the door and says, with a huge smile on his face, "Hi!". I replied, "Crawl under the door." My Dad continues to mutter, "He didn't want me in there. He shoved the door closed!"

Daniel crawls out from under the door, his big boy underwear and shorts still scrunched around his ankles. Huge smile plastered to his face as he stands up and Morticia Adams-walks over to us. Picture it in your mind now. Yeah, us too.

"Dad," I say as I helped Dan dress, "Next time he wants to be in a stall by himself, just say "No"." Dad replied, "But he didn't want me in there."

I love my Dad's efforts not quash Daniel's independent spirit. I truly do.

I have no such qualms. "So? You're bigger."

Meanwhile, some poor schlep in Boca is going to seek refuge after a bad Mexican lunch and have to crawl under the door. Sorry, fella.