Sometimes I see things I’m not expecting.
Like two untied tennis shoes kicked to the curb under the women’s handicapped stall door at Bethany Baptist Church.
My son who’d entered a moment earlier was seated and trying to make peace with the four pancakes he’d eaten last night.
I hoped all was going well.
I took a peek through the door crack. Which was when I saw a limp pair of underwear twisted inside out, a pair of pants still in the running position and two shirts taken off together all curled up in the corner.
My son who’d given up on the toilet seat, sat straddling the bowl itself. Wearing… his socks.
I figured this was enlightenment–
Until I was caught off guard by the dismount where my son clutched my jacket with both hands and shimmied off the throne.
I don’t know that there’s more to add except my personal confession: I wore that jacket the rest of the day.