Last week, Matthew and I were in Walmart picking up a few things, when Matthew suddenly announced that he had a bathroom emergency. Running for the bathroom, we left our not-yet-purchased goods with the willing greeter at the front of the store for safekeeping.
The only cubicle available was the wheelchair-accessible one, but when Matthew said that his "poop was coming, Mom," (to the amusement of everyone else in the bathroom) I told him to go ahead and use that one. He locked me out, as per usual these days, and I could hear him humming Jingle Bells (which he insists is not a Christmas song) as he went about his thing.
After at least a minute of listening to the humming, I asked through the door if everything was ok, and if he needed help.
Matthew: "Nope. I'm happy. I'm just sitting here, waiting for that old poop to come out. Come on, poop. You want to tell me a story, Mom?"
The amusement surrounding me turned into chuckles, and I could hear snickers behind me in line as well as emanating from the cubicles. I smiled down the line behind me and muttered something about "kids..." as I shrugged my shoulders. I declined Matthew's invitation for a story, suggesting that this might be a better time to focus on the job at hand.
After another couple of minutes had elapsed, I braved another inquiry into how he was doing.
Me: "Everything ok in there?"
Matthew: "Yup. Still working on the same poop, Mom. It must be a really big one. Like maybe a humongo one. Maybe the size of an elephant's."
No doubt about it - my face was beet red now and it was clear that we had become the butt of the joke, standing there in the now-crowded bathroom.
Finally, I heard the toilet flush and the door unlock. Matthew appeared, smiling and waving at everyone in line...who all waved back and smiled at him, as if they knew him personally (and perhaps they did - what's more intimate than what happens in the privacy of the bathroom?).
He looked at me, then at the lineup of women behind me, then back at me. He announced: "I was right, Mom. It was massive. I can't believe that came out of me. And I wiped my own bum, Mom. It took a loooooot of wipes, but I did it."
As he cheerfully washed up, a few women mentioned in passing that they, too, had boys at home, and that "it's ok."