Yellow Rain

As any parent of a three-year-old knows, any venture out of the house requires a constant interrogation-"Do you have to go to the potty?"  "Are you sure you don't have to pee-pee?" "Why don't you try going to the bathroom?".  Grace is actually very good about telling us when she needs to find a bathroom so when all my pleas, threats and cajoling failed I rolled the dice and accepted the girl's assurances that she would alert me when it was time for a bathroom break.  You can see where this story is going.  Or flowing.

We breezed through our morning errands unscathed, but then I had the genius idea to enjoy the great weather with a picnic at the playground.  Not the playground directly across the street from our house, literally fifty yards from our bathroom.  No, that would be smart.  Instead, we stopped at a park across town.  A park delightfully free of those pesky public restrooms.  (I told you I'm a gambler!)  The picnic was going swimmingly - tasty food, running and jumping, raucous laughter - until I see that expression cross Grace's face.  That expression that wordlessly conveys, "Thanks Dad, you are a wonderful father who has made today so enjoyable that until just this moment I have been too distracted to monitor exactly how full my bladder really is!"  I wasn't mad at this turn of events, after all, accidents happen and I pretty much put us in a postion to fail.  I instantly started the mental calculations of getting back down the slide and how to keep the car seat dry on the way home. 

What's that?  Oh, I didn't mention we were at the top of the tallest, curliest kids' slide I've ever been on?  Or how fun it was to watch thirteen gallons of urine leak through the top grate, rain down onto the first layer of curves then watch it slowly cascade around and around and around the remaining curves until it covered the entire slide?  Thirteen gallons might be an exaggeration, but there was SO MUCH PEE.  So much that I'm surprised the National Weather Service didn't immediately issue a flash flood warning.  So much that I am thinking about renting her out to the fire department. 

Fortunately, there were no other kids (or parents, more importantly) in the park.  After walking Grace back down the steps and convincing her it would not be more comfortable to ride in the carseat naked than to ride in wet clothes, I set out to clean up the mess.  Yes, my first instinct was to toss her in the car and peel rubber so no one would discover what a terrible father I am.  My conscience got the better of me, however, so I cleaned up the best I could with limited resources.  I was wearing two shirts so the oldest went to soak up the puddle at the top of the slide.   I could have used the second shirt as well, I suppose, but I think me walking around a park shirtless is more of a public disservice than leaving behind a piss-covered slide.  For the slide itself, I briefly considered sliding down myself to soak up as much pee as possible.  Instead comm on sense prevailed and I poured the remainder of a large cup of water down from the top and let it wash down what it could.  But I can assure you the urine to clean water ratio was woefully out of balance.

So, to the children who will play in that park today after school, I say- I'm sorry.  And you might want to wear a wetsuit.