Serial Flasher

flasher

Much to my horror I seem to have become a serial public flasher.

I do have an accomplice.

A very young accomplice.

No, I have not taken to exploiting children in a filthy flasher ring, my child is the perpetrator.

Whenever I need to make use of public facilities I am faced with some impossible choices. It’s not exactly Sophie’s Choice but it’s not would you like that on white or brown bread either.

I have to make a choice between him or me. My dignity or his safety.

Let me explain. The first choice I have to be very careful about is deciding who goes first.

If I go first I risk having him pee in his pants while I watch unable to do anything about it. This is only a concern if he in fact needs to go at all, if he doesn’t it’s the same problem as if I go second.

Here I have to risk being exposed to the immediate public as he opens the door and makes a dash for his freedom, to continue whatever adventure we were on before we were so rudely interrupted by the call of nature.

So there I am, sitting in a more public cubicle than is  usually considered appropriate where I can choose either to power pee, for an audience or pull up stumps and my pants faster than any women has ever pulled up her pants after stopping mid pee before. Who doesn’t want to be seen half naked in public peeing fast enough to break land speed records? Well, there’s me.

One of his favourite places to perpetrate this crime is at the swimming pool, trying to pull on wet swimming pants is not really very high on the list of things that are easy to do whilst worrying about your child’s immediate safety.

We went to a cafe for breakfast with my parents the other day, the bathroom had a fabulously exciting button operated automatic sliding
door. Fabulously exciting until you realise that both the button and the door are far too far away from the toilet to be useful to a women whose son is intent on exposing her.

Yes, yes he did.

I was allowed the dubious pleasure of greeting the entire restaurant with my pants around my knees as I hurtled towards the door in a vain attempt to protect my modesty.

I know they say that parents get the opportunity to even up the balance by embarrassing their children later in life, I’m just not sure how I’m going to top his antics without being up for some sort of charges.

*Image from http://www.nonlintec.com/porsche/flasher/

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