I guess I’m the type who never learns. After my flight debacle, you’d think I learn to listen to my wife’s advice. Well, If you thought so, you’d be wrong. My latest failure came at the expense of my 3 year old son, X.
My wife, KayEm, and the older kids went out of town for a few days and left X and I to fend for ourselves. Before she left, reminded me to bring X’s backpack filled with spare clothes whenever we ventured out.
“Sure,” I said as I worked on beating my Peggle high score.
“Don’t forget,” she insisted.
“I won’t,” I said. “I won’t.”
She whispered something under her breath and proceeded to load the kids into the minivan.
The next day, X and I went on a great adventure. We started at Build-A-Bear where we built a Texas Longhorn. Next, we took some time to play at the park and then visited the music store to play around with the drums and guitars. It was approaching lunchtime and I consulted my AroundMe app for a restaurant. I settled on a placed that served Antichuchos de Pollo because I always like to expand my kids’ palettes. We entered the restaurant and headed straight to the restroom. I positioned X at the kid’s urinal and stood at the next one. After X finished relieving himself, he flushed and started to zip his pants. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the toilet water rising.
“Move, move, move!” I yelled, but it was too late. I watched in horror as the water spilled out of the toilet and drenched my son. He started crying uncontrollably. I grabbed a fistful of paper towels, dried him off as best I could and carried him to the car (before I left, I had a few choice words with the manager about the state of his restrooms). I sat X in the car seat and searched for his backpack. As I looked around the backseat, I heard my wife’s words playing in my head, “Don’t forget X’s backpack.” D’oh!
Thankfully, there was a Target across the street. I dashed inside, picked out a shirt, pants, underwear, socks, and shoes, and paid as quickly as I could trying to keep X calm the whole time. I spotted the restroom and carried my son inside. When he realized that we were going near another toilet, he shrieked and tried to run away. I grabbed his shirt and led him to an open stall where I removed the soiled clothing, gave him a quick sponge bath (I used the hand soap and napkins), and dressed him in his new outfit.
He was so happy about his new Lightning McQueen shoes, that he immediately forgot about his traumatic toilet experience. At least, I thought he forgot. When KayEm returned a few days later. He rushed to greet her at the door.
“Mommy,” X said excitedly. “Look at my new shoes.”
“Those are nice,” KayEm said. “Why did you get new shoes?”
“I got all new clothes because of the toilet water,” he said.
KayEm turned to me with a puzzled look on her face. “What is he taking about?”
I knew I was busted so I confessed.
“You didn’t have his backback?” she asked.
“No,” I said as I hung my head in shame.
KayEm just shook her head. I know that it took every ounce of her being not to say “I told you so.”
Question: Have you ever had one of these “I told you so” moments?