dad's view

Jeff Shelby is a full-time author and a stay-at-home Dad. Jeff's mystery novels, Wicked Break and Killer Swell, have both appeared on the Los Angeles Times and Denver Post best-seller lists. He also serves as a writer/reviewer on the book site, MyShelf.com.

Why Tetanus Shots Are So Important

October 19, 2008

I took my daughter to the movies recently and, as is pretty usual, about five minutes in, she told me she needed to use the restroom. A year or so ago, I would've rolled my eyes and swore under my breath because when I'd asked her fifteen minutes before going into the theater if she had to go, she swore on her mother’s name that she did not. But now I'm used to it and I know that there's just something about sitting in a dark theater and digging her hand into a bucket of popcorn that stimulates her bladder.

We walked out into the lobby and I immediately went to the family restroom, which was occupied.

"Can you wait a minute?" I asked her.

"No," she said, doing her little potty dance that tells me she actually waited a bit too long to inform me that she had to go.

"Okay," I said and we headed for the men's room.

"Sir, you can take her in the family restroom," a voice called out from across the lobby.

I turned to the voice and saw that it was a cop. If it hadn't been a cop, I guarantee that I would've popped off with something sarcastic and obnoxious. But I didn't have bail money with me.

"Just tried it and someone's in there," I said, trying to smile and still walking toward the men's room.

"Well, I'm sure if you'll just wait a moment, they'll be done," the cop said. "Just easier for everybody, you know?"

Five year old. Has to pee. Hand clutching at her shorts. Dancing. What don't you understand???

At this point, I can't hide my irritation, scowl at the cop (a woman, by the way – not that it really matters) and say "We're good" (much in the same way I greet the guy in the mall kiosk who wants to clean my ring) and scoot my daughter into the restroom before Sergeant Easier For Everybody had any other advice to offer.

We found a stall, I ushered my daughter in and while she went about her business, I fumed.

I mean, really. Have you seen a men's restroom? Why on Earth would I want to subject my small daughter to the horrifying, disgusting mess that is a public men's restroom? You think I wouldn't like to save her that trauma? You think I wouldn't prefer for her to use the women's restroom or the family restroom, where people act civilized, instead of exposing her to the inhumane conditions of public men's restrooms? Again - have you ever seen a men's restroom? Of all the things that I will force on my daughter over the course of her lifetime – sports, vegetables, The Brady Bunch, learning to drive a stick shift – the one I will most regret is that she had to spend a few years venturing into men's restrooms with me. I'm sorry, honey. I really am. Men are disgusting, inexplicable pigs who lose all sense of decorum when they enter a bathroom that they are not paying the mortgage on.

Look, I get that the whole girl-in-a-men's-restroom thing can be a little tricky. She's five now and has a lot more questions. But she's not, say, fifteen. And it's not like we stick around and have a conversation, while discussing the urinals. Using the restroom in a public place – particularly busy public places – is still a tricky issue. There are some places I just don't feel comfortable sending her in on her own. And there are some that she's afraid of because of the advent of those amazingly loud toilets that threaten to suck the small child down into the drain when flushed. So we ALWAYS look for family restrooms now and use them whenever possible. But I also refuse to let her suffer the indignation of wetting her pants just because some old, useless, ineffective cop - working the movie theater beat, huh? Promotion, I'm sure. Doesn't know her badge from her nightstick.

My daughter washed her hands and we headed back out to the lobby and the theater. The cop was glaring at me. Again, if this hadn't been a cop, I would've said and/or done something that might have required the attention of a cop. I for sure would've invited her to go inspect the restroom because it had been COMPLETELY EMPTY AND OH MY GOD NO ONE HAD TO DEAL WITH A SMALL CHILD IN THE BATHROOM! I really didn't want to have to make an extra visit to my probation officer this month, though, so I kept my mouth shut.

That was just easier for everybody.