Port-A-Pot Predicament

Yesterday, I took the girls to Penrod Art Festival. I knew trying to navigate the double stroller through hundreds of art enthusiasts on the IMA's uneven grounds would present a challenge, but this turned out to be the least of my worries. About two hours into our outing and a hot dog, popcorn and bottle of water later, Claudia announced to me that she needed to go potty. I pulled out my map in search of the nearest restroom....and by restroom, I mean port-a-pot alley. As we were standing in line my mind was racing, "how am I possibly going to assist my newly potty-trained toddler in a 3' x 3' crap closet while managing a baby in a stroller?" It was finally our turn and as luck would have it, we got a pot on the very end. I parked the stroller and begged Claudia not to touch anything. With one leg out, one leg in and my tush propping the door wide open, I was able to successfully keep an eye on Mallory in a mob of strangers while holding Claudia over the poop pit. I never thought I would say it, but at times like this I prefer a kid in diapers.

Other highlights of the day were:

• Robert Indiana's "Love" sculpture
• Claudia's papyrus paper masterpiece
• The Budweiser clydesdales and dalmatian