Big E began his career as a world class sprinter this week. He has practice three days a week. Two of the practices are held at an elementary school that does not allow the team access to its bathrooms.
We were told this at Sunday's practice.
MAKE SURE YOU USE THE BATHROOM BEFORE YOU COME TO PRACTICE.
As the coach's words hung in the air, a single drip of sweat rolled down my back. I knew in my heart of hearts that this would definitely be a problem.
My kids are 238/238 for having to poop at parks, playgrounds, trails etc with no bathroom access.
I have used leaves, receipts, and hand sanitizing wipes to clean up their bathroom trips. I understand that they are young and don't have the bowel control that adults have, but I feel like they almost do this on purpose. Like it's cool to sh*t in the woods. It's not. I can assure you.
Five minutes into practice, I saw Little E doing the potty dance in front of the playground he was enjoying. My heart leapt. Maybe, oh maybe one of the doors to the school was unlocked.
The only place to go was a five foot tree buffer between school property and a neighborhood. I briefly thought about knocking on some random person's door. But I didn't think Little E would make it.
Instead we entered an area that can best be described as bramble. Think Rapunzel. It was like these low lying plants came armed to the fight with sharp little knives. And my sandled ankles and feet were public enemy #1. And it was also on a hill. And I have a sprained ankle.
But Little E didn't go once. Or twice. We made three separate trips into the woods. My ankle screamed in pain. And looked like this.
On one of our trips, we exited the woods and one of the runners asked me excitedly if this was another trail to run on.
NO. IT'S THE TRAIL OF TEARS. MOVE ALONG CHAMP.