Public Toilet Stress Disorder

I had the most stressful time over the weekend, and it involved a public restroom and a 2 year old girl, my niece.

Her dad gave me the task of taking her to pee in the woman’s bathroom. We were at a wedding so I was wearing a formal floor-length gown and wobbling in 5 inch stilettos, and my adorable niece was in a bubble dress with a long ribbon tied around her waist. I walked her towards the first available stall, but she refused to go in. There were several open, and she peeked her head inside every one until she was satisfied with the spacious handicap stall. She had to pee really badly; I told her to hold it while I wiped down the toilet, then I asked her to pick up her dress as I held her over the bowl. I was crouching down as I hung onto her armpits, afraid the massive bowl would swallow her. What I didn’t notice upon entering the stall was that the floor was completely soaked. I was hoping it was water, but it could have been urine, or probably a concoction of both. Whatever it was, the bottom of my dress was soaking it all in, and I didn’t have a enough hands to get it off the floor. I sacrificed my dress– I used my left hand to hold onto my niece, and I used my right hand to reach over and single-handedy unroll and rip off a few strips of toilet paper. As my hand went in from the back to wipe her, I realized the dangling ribbons were soaking in the toilet bowl. She peed all over them. OMG I am freaking out. She was wearing a very expensive dress, and I ruined it.

At this point I am panicking and I’m not sure what I should do. It’s been at least 5 minutes, and her dad is still waiting outside for her. I pat her dry and then I lift her off the toilet. As I stand up, I can feel the bottom edge of my dampened dress stick against my foot. Ugh. No time to attend to that right now, I have to figure out how to dry my niece’s bow without her parents figuring out what happened. Also, keep in mind the stall door was open the entire time. In my haste I forgot to latch it. So all these women were peeking their heads in, watching me ring out a urine-soaked ribbon with my bare hands (gag) and then squeeze it dry with the thinnest toilet paper ever made.

As I’m trying to dry her bow, she decides she no longer wants to wear her headband and throws it on the floor. She also kicks off her shoes. My germophobic self is now crawling on the bathroom floor retrieving my niece’s belongings. I’m also trying to pull her underwear up, but she’s not having it. Then she lifts her dress and starts mumbling but I can’t understand a word she is saying. My mind is frantically focused on how her mother will react if she finds out part of her daughter’s dress was soaking in the toilet. This cheap toilet paper is not drying anything, so I take her to the sink to find the hand towels. FYI also in my haste I forgot to flush the toilet which at this point not only has my niece’s pee in it, but it’s filled with crumbled toilet paper. Another also: some of the crumbled toilet paper might have fallen around the bowl instead of inside the bowl. The stall looked like it had been trashed after I was done with it. We (the stall and I) were a hot mess by the time I got to the sink.

Her dad has now been waiting 10 minutes for his daughter. Someone comes in and relays to me that he’s asking if everything is okay. I tell her “Oh yes, we’re fine! She got some water on her dress, and I’m drying it off.” Not really a lie, I just left out the “and urine” part. I spend another 5 minutes at the sink drying her bow. Then I lift her up to the faucet and ask her to wash her hands. She’s holding onto the front of her skirt, so when she puts her hands under the running water, her dress is also getting soaked. I gasp and ask for help. Luckily there’s someone next to me and she tucks the dress away and gets her hands clean. My niece is happy and laughing at this point. I am still a hot mess, but I hold her hand (I washed my hands very thoroughly) and I give her back to daddy.

That 15 minute potty break was so stressful that I reconsidered breeding. The next day, her mother tells me I put her underwear on with both legs in one leg hole. That explains why she kept holding onto her dress– she was trying to fix the leg hole by pulling on her skirt. The thought of that floods my mind with the frenzied events of last night, and I have a slight inner panic attack. I must be suffering from PTSD. I am a total future parent failure. I’m getting my tubes tied.

My future spawn, should I choose to breed

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