Driving back from my nephew's party on Long Island, Nora complained that she had to go the bathroom. She was whining and in deep distress that she might wet her pajamas and car seat. We were on the Sprain Book parkway, probably the darkest busy road in lower New York - no lights but the full moon. Again she said she had to go and bad. It was going to be a disaster.
I spotted some lights behind some black trees and got off. Couldn't name the town but there was a gas station nearby. We ran in and asked for the bathroom key.
We have no key, the attendant said. "I asked the owner four times and he won't drive the key over."
We left for McDonalds, which was down the road from the gas station. I backed into the guard rail that protects the pump and made sure I didn't hit a Lexus or that gas was puring out of the stall.
Nora was crying and moaning.
But when we pulled into the McDonalds' parking lot, she started to giggle. "I have to tell you guys something," she said between laughs.
Regina knew the answer but I was already unbuckling my seat belt.
"I PEED my car seat!" she squealed and out came peals of laughter.
I got out to check the back of the minivan -- perfectly fine in the parking lot light.
Back in the car, the two boys are asleep and Regina and Nora are laughing at her accident.
We drove home and she relieved herself like a racehorse outside the car door. More giggles.
Good times.
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