And then. Yesterday, I took G swimming for the last time of the season (sigh of relief) and we had the pleasure of the company of a few residents and the "keeper of the pool", who clearly took this high elected office seriously. He's the man that enforces the pool rules and regulations and stipulations and decrees, so I was already nervous that we were unaccompanied (Granny keeps L for me). Garrett declares loudly that he "has to pee"--which is just what every other swimmer wants to hear, right? And then continues to assure me that "he thinks he can hold it and wants to wait"--also, very comforting.:) So, when it's time to get out, and all eyes are on us---which is very normal, because G is much more exciting to watch than whatever it is they were reading--I make a barricade of a towel and a chair so he can change. He pulls down his swimsuit and I grab the towel (the only one I had) to dry off his body.
It was just like I had pushed a magic button, because, as the suit came down, the pee-pee came out. It took me a second to realize what was going on b/c I was busy drying his hair, but then I noticed the 4 ft high urine arch and the subsequent run-off all over the concrete pool patio. G usually asks me first before he pees outside, so I think he must have just thought that since he had said he had to 'go' and we got out of the pool and we pulled off his pants--that, peeing was the plan. Seems logical to me now, but it never dawned on me then.
So, I could feel the beady hot eyes on my back, and I did what anyone who was swimming without permission, whose child had just urinated all over the concrete where these sweet people rest their toes, and who had no cup to rinse it off, would have done......I ducked my head, gathered our things, and ran like hell. And took the back way to my MIL's condo.