I watched from the driver's seat of my car as the 8-year-old I was babysitting trotted off toward the public restrooms at the park. I had driven him there for soccer practice when he suddenly informed me that he needed to go to the bathroom. Second guessing my decision to let him go all by himself, I got out of the car and followed him. As I got nearer, I could tell the gate surrounding the restrooms was locked.
"Is it number one or number two?" I yelled to him. He held up one finger. "Just go right there," I said, gesturing toward the many bushes surrounding the locked gate.
"Everyone will think I am weird!" he countered. I assured him nobody would even notice and, after some persuasion, I turned around as he did his business behind one of the bushes. When he was done, he jumped back into my car and I drove him down to his practice at the other end of the park. "Chau!" he called back to me as he ran off to join his teammates.
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