Toilet Humour

I can’t remember when I stopped bringing Christian to the public toilets, but delegated the task to P. I think it must have been when he stopped wearing diapers out, and was toilet trained.

In any case, it has been P’s task to bring the little boy to the men’s since a long time ago, and I am always tickled pink by the harrowing experiences P goes through almost every time he does so.

Once, P told me after bringing Ch to the toilet that our son touched the dirty toilet seat, the dirty toilet wall, before touching P on the face. Another time, it was Ch’s dirty poop-smeared fingers which touched P’s nose. And sometimes, I would stand outside and hear P’s shouts…which were the result of Ch not being able to resist his impulse to touch the dirty sink AFter his hands have been washed.

I thought things were much better now that Ch is almost 4…and I’ve not heard funny stories nor seen P’s look of exhaustion post-toileting for sometime now.

However, we were at 112 Katong today after going to the beach when Ch said he needed the loo. I waited at least 15 minutes for them, and wondered why it was taking so long, secretly anticipating the low-brow scatological humour that was coming.

The look on P’s face said it all, but I was puzzled when he started off by saying “Ch, tell Mama how nice the toilet here is…it has buttons and sprays for the buttock right?”

Ch started prattling on, and P told me that they were in the midst of trying to wash Ch’s buttocks with one of those sprays when Ch HAD to shift, causing poor P’s (whom I guess was kneeling down trying to clean Ch) face to get sprayed on instead.

I burst out laughing, and Ch quickly defended himself, saying “But it was ticklish Mama!”