Did you ever get that feeling when you are in the Supermarket?
First, the slight rumble when you enter and then, when your cart is almost full and your kids are getting seriously impatient, the insufferable pain in your southern region when mr Bowel sends a supercilious message that you should have listened to the warning shot and it's now to late. As soon as you move, you're doomed.
The joys of last night has turned into an unstoppable flood, going south (I do have a beer belly, it just doesn't grow on me). And now your too far from the men's room to get there in time, a mile from home and with two innocent children to protect and care for.
So, what do you do?
I did bring some diapers for my youngest, but no way they can stand this, and besides there's nowhere to hide.
Just let it all go in a Fight Club manner (as I remember, they edited out a scene just like this for fear of negative public response) and walk proudly to the cashier? No, not there yet.
Fake a knee injury and have someone wheel chair you to the toilet. No, the faking part will without doubt end in a real accident.
You just wait for the pain to loosen its grip, walk a couple of meters until it sets in again, stop to casually inspect some produce, walk again, stop, stratch your chin and wonder which of the excellent choices of pasta you should buy, walk, stop, ponder over if I really need some "I-can't-believe-it-isn't-cheese" until you reach the place in the store closest to the place of your dreams. Then you have a small conversation with your son, act suprised, and then DASH for the men's room.
Now, this is perfectly OK, because as we all now, kids don't have perfect control of their bladders so when they gotta go, they gotta go. Nobody will flinch if you're in a hurry to the toilet as long as you got a kid under your arm. I'll save you further details but all is well that ends well.
The good thing about experiences like this is that the rest of the day will float by in a shimmering golden light.
And no, I won't post a picture to this one.