Last Saturday evening, Dan, H, and I were getting some last minute grocery shopping done.  Dan was distracting H so she wouldn't try and steal candy from the checkout aisle (although, I'm of the opinion that they're just asking for it by putting it within reach of every toddler in the store) while I was about to pay when I heard those dreaded words.

"Mommy, I got to go potty!"

I switched places with Dan, and H and I ran as fast as we could to the restroom.  I was worried because I couldn't remember if she was wearing underwear or pull-ups and I didn't have a change of pants with us.  Fortunately we made it in record time.  We slipped into the last unoccupied stall and I felt completely blessed.  My side mind did register it was a little odd for such a large store to only have two stalls in the restroom, but whatever, my main mind was just too elated to have made it.  H kept saying, "We did it, Mommy, we did it!", and I kept congratulating her, not even caring what the person next to me thought of our little celebration.  As I helped her with her pants, I reminded her that we needed to wash our hands.  She ran out of the stall ahead of me, and I heard her say, "Wash them right here, Mommy?"  I walked out, saw where she was pointing and froze...

                                                

"Oh, #*@*!  No, no, don't wash your hands there.  Just run out to Daddy!  Run!"

Yes, I had gone into the men's room.  And that was why there were only two stalls.

I initially thought the other patron must have been trying to save us the embarassment by staying in his stall the entire time, but I've since realized we probably scared him into thinking he was in the women's room. 

I don't know who saw us come out.  The rest was a blur as we jetted to the parking lot with our heads down.  Well, my head was down.  Dan was laughing too hard to keep up with me.  I guess Dan should have been the one to take her after all.