Justifiable Homicide?

Source: Flickr. (C) Bob Jagendorf

So, my 3 year old has really gotten the hang of this potty training thing.  She's been consistently telling us that she has to go potty, and we've stopped doing diapers during the day entirely.

She's so proud of herself that she has been keeping her big girl pants clean, and hasn't had any accidents for a while.

Recently we went to the zoo, and she told me that she had to go, so we went to the nearest bathroom.  All the stalls were full, so we waited.  She's now dancing.

"Daddy, I have to go potty!" she pleads.

Finally, a stall opens.  Luckily, it's the larger one.  The guy walks out.  We walk in, and the guy has completely trashed the stall.

Oh, the things I wanted to do to him.

My situation is hard enough right now.  I've got both my kids: the 3 year old, and the baby in a stroller.  Now, I have a lummox of a man-child that thought it would be hilarious to piss and poop all over the toilet seat, leave toilet paper piled up in the bowl, and of course the jerk didn't flush.

He's still standing in the bathroom.  He sees me.  I stare daggers at him.  He smiles, and walks out.

Evil.  Carnage.  Death.

But that will have to come later.  Right now, I have to remedy this situation created by this inconsiderate beast.  Luckily, flushing does work.  I've got wipes, and I've got two kids: I've long gotten over touching other peoples poop.  In it all goes to the potty.  Flush.

"Daddy, I really have to go....RIGHT NOW!!!" She's pleading, as I'm furiously wiping.  Interpret that as you wish, because I was furious in both senses of  the word.

Almost done.  The seat is now clean enough for her to sit on her own.  I'm ready to get her on the potty.

I turn, and her pants are wet.  There are tears on her cheeks.

We were so close.

"Daddy, I pooped my pants!" she screams, as the tears now start gushing, snot and all.

We were so damn close.

Sure enough, she's gone and had the worst kind of accident.  It was completely preventable.  She did such a good job, she did everything she was supposed to, did everything she was taught, did everything right.

And yet, she still pooped her pants.  Why does it have to be like this?  Because some people are just jerks.

She's inconsolable, as I help her onto the potty, and clean her up.

Anger.  Rage.  Fury.

All aimed at that guy that can't be botherd to behave like a decent human being.

But I'll have to focus on that later.  Right now, I have to put all the dirty clothes into the wet bag, and get her changed.

"But Daddy, I said I had to go potty!  I did a good job!" She's pleading, as she is getting changed.  She can't understand why this happened.

"I know, I know, you told me, we went to the bathroom, we just didn't make it in time.  It's OK" I try to tell her between gasps for breath as she is wiping away the tears.

She's all changed, and now we're ready to go.  First, up to the sink to wash, then over to the air dryer to get dry.  She really likes the air dryer, that improves her mood.

Out we go, back to the zoo.  She's walking, holding my hand as we leave the bathroom, wearing her new clothes.  We round the corner, and who do we see at the benches?

Yeah, the guy's still nearby.

Sure enough, he's got a smirk.  I want to pound it right off his face.

We lock eyes.  My eyes are daggers.  His are a look of knowing, of not caring, knowful bliss.

My kid sees him too, she knows.  She lets go of my hand, and walks over to him.  In her most defiant tone that she uses for us, she points her finger at him and says this:

"You're not nice!"

Then she turns back to me, takes my hand, and says, "Daddy, I want to see the Zebras!"

The rest of the day was much better after that.