Some weeks ago, my family and I decided to take a trip to the Natural History Museum. Don't get me wrong. This wasn't some attempt to inculcate our kids with a sense of culture. This was about escaping the brutal New York heat by hanging out at the back of the Museum where a kiddie pool and series of fountains are located. We hadn't visited this space for a while because we were in self-imposed exile. The last time we came, my daughter decided to shit in the kiddie pool. I remember approaching her and noticing floating bits of crap surrounding her as she continued to splash and play oblivious to the poo colored water surrounding her. More horrifying than seeing my kid play in a pool of her own excrement was seeing other kids with their heads bobbing in and out of the water. I discretely beckoned my wife so as not to alarm the other parents or draw attention to my kid (and consequently ourselves). I casually plucked my daughter from the water and immediately wrapped her in a towel to conceal her incriminating brown ass. Then, to avoid the inevitable guilt associated with a "shit and run", I muttered to a nearby mom "I think some kid made in the water". And faster than you could say "irresponsible parenting", we were gone.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Brown Water
Some weeks ago, my family and I decided to take a trip to the Natural History Museum. Don't get me wrong. This wasn't some attempt to inculcate our kids with a sense of culture. This was about escaping the brutal New York heat by hanging out at the back of the Museum where a kiddie pool and series of fountains are located. We hadn't visited this space for a while because we were in self-imposed exile. The last time we came, my daughter decided to shit in the kiddie pool. I remember approaching her and noticing floating bits of crap surrounding her as she continued to splash and play oblivious to the poo colored water surrounding her. More horrifying than seeing my kid play in a pool of her own excrement was seeing other kids with their heads bobbing in and out of the water. I discretely beckoned my wife so as not to alarm the other parents or draw attention to my kid (and consequently ourselves). I casually plucked my daughter from the water and immediately wrapped her in a towel to conceal her incriminating brown ass. Then, to avoid the inevitable guilt associated with a "shit and run", I muttered to a nearby mom "I think some kid made in the water". And faster than you could say "irresponsible parenting", we were gone.
