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Anchor 1


The Spy In Stall One

I was in the girl's bathroom a few weeks ago between Sunday morning church services. I usually head to the one in the children's wing when I have the time. It's not as fancy as the main one, but it has more stalls and there is hardly ever anyone in there. No line. :) We get a lot of visitors for the eleven o'clock service and I figure my absence from that pretty front ladies room is helpful. While I was in my little cubical, three little girls came in. They obviously did not realize that I was there, and so they were talking freely. "Have you ever been in a boy's bathroom?", one asked the other two. "Ewww, no! Gross! Why would I ever go in there?", was the combined answer of the other two. "Well", continued the first, "I had to one time, because we were at a baseball game and my mom was busy and couldn't take me. So my dad took me!!!" "What?!? Why couldn't he take you into the girl's bathroom?" (Make sure you are hearing the total outrage at the horrible injustice here!) "I don't know, but he wouldn't!", replied the first little girl. "He said I had to go into the boy's bathroom with him!" "Ewwww! Gross! That's horrible! That was so mean! What was it like?" "Well, it was very stinky in there. Really gross and dirty. And it had these awful little toilets with no walls! And there were men in there, but I didn't see nothing." By now I am laughing so hard that I'm crying. Silent laughter, which is very hard for me. I am loving this, and don't want to give myself away. I thought about standing on the toilet and scrunching down so I could remain undiscovered, but my knees don't like that position very much and it would have been painful. But I'm tall and without the scrunching my head would tower above the stall, and I'd be more likely to be seen than I was with my feet on the floor. Besides, if one of those girls tried my stall door and found it locked with no feet on the floor as she peered under, it was very likely that she would crawl underneath the door to unlock it. Happened every day when I was teaching. Some big, smart-aleck kid (like, at least in the fourth grade!) would lock all of the stall doors, then crawl underneath and leave, so that when my little kids came running in (okay, no running) in a state of total bathroom emergency, they couldn't get to the toilets. I guess they were hoping for a bathroom meltdown in the hall. That would be HUGE bragging rights. I would get tired of taking the smallest kid of the corresponding sex into the bathroom and using them to do the crawl-under-and-unlock maneuver needed to give the distressed kid toilet access. Meanwhile, the kid who had the urgent need (who was, by now, jumping up and down with her legs crossed if she were a girl, or holding himself, if he were a boy) would nearly knock me over to get into that first available stall. Forget getting the door closed. It was a good day if I didn't have to go to the office and get Pam (the school secretary) to call for additional clothes. So, at some point I just taught the kids that if they go into the bathroom and find the stall doors locked with no feet showing underneath, that they should just crawl under the door and unlock it themselves. No need to get me. Fourth graders are dumb! And no, I didn't use the word dumb. It was a cuss word, along with stupid, hate, butt, and crap. Mrs. Olszewski's rules, 101. Anyway, back to the church bathroom and the fabulous conversation that I'm eavesdropping on. I just kept my feet on the floor and took my chances on being discovered. "Ewwwww! Gross! Yeah, I think those little toilets are called urinals. And let me tell you, it's waaay easier for boys to go to the bathroom. I have a brother." "Yeah, that's sooo not fair!", said one of the girls. Then the other asked the first, "So what did you do?" "Well, there was a couple regular toilets with walls, and my dad said I could use one of those. But it was sooooo gross!" "Ewwwwww! Gross! That must have been SOOO horrible!" Flush! "Yeah, and then, when I washed my hands, the sink was all dirty and gross. But I didn't touch anything. I don't think that boys ever wash their hands after they go to the bathroom." "Ewwwwwwww! Gross! Boys are so disgusting! Yuck!" Flush! "Well", said the wise little girl who knew what a urinal was, "I KNOW that is true, because I have to share a bathroom with my brother, and I try to keep it clean, but I can't, because he is SOOOO gross!" "Ewwwwwwww! Gross! Boys are horrible! One time..." Their voices faded as the little girls left without washing their hands, and I never had to reveal that I was the spy-in-stall-one. I washed my hands in the barely-ever-used, clean-as-a-whistle girl's sink and made my way back to my place before the choir came out for the opening of the worship service. I had a big smile on my face. Others probably thought it was the joy of the Lord. That would actually be accurate. But today, in addition, I'm still laughing about the fun of being the spy-in-stall-one. :) I am aware that this post has absolutely no spiritual application (but I'm thinking I could come up with one if need be, lol), but I needed the laugh and thought maybe you could use one, too. I love kids!


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