I just peed on our camper floor. You would think that this would be something that our one year old would do but instead she’s looking at me quizzically with her dark brown judgy eyes.
Zach woke bright and early to walk the half mile to the campground bath house and get in a shower before we took off on the road again. I woke up after him and my post birth bladder was about to burst. I nursed our daughter, trying to keep her kicking feet away from my abdomen. Then I did what any camping woman would do, I went outside to pop a squat. However at this particular campground, I had neighbors with no real cover in between us. Not a problem, I’ll just go over towards the beach. At the beach an early morning fisherman gave me a cheerful wave, “Morning!” I mumbled and turned around.
I was getting desperate. I went back into the camper where our daughter was secured in her travel bed and starting to complain. “Okay okay okay, what can I pee in?” I grabbed a ziploc bag. Eureka!
This particular Ziploc bag had a hole. “Shit.”
The camper comes stocked with a toilet. However, we hadn’t set it up yet and I had never used it. In my pee frenzy, the idea of having to scoop pee out of the toilet seemed like a stupid option.
I flung the door open and sprinted back out to the beach. I dropped my pants and let fly. I stood up, locked eyes with my fisherman pal, and smiled, “Morning!”