Today I took my ginormous wad of Girl Scout cookie cash (nearly $2000 in primarily one's and five's) to an older bank on the square of my small town. My companion, as usual, was the newly 2-year-old Hazard County (#3). We ran into the bank in the pouring rain and took advantage of the old school booths available for customers to use to count money, make out, etc… I closed the door of the booth, sat down in a chair and commenced counting my wad-o-cash. Hazard County felt right at home in the confined space. She climbed onto the chair, pulled herself up on the desk and lay down on her back, spread eagle and waited. I was distracted by all of the green but I said, "What are you doing?"
She pointed at her crotch and said, "Poo poo" with a smile. She expected me to change her diaper. I looked around: small room, empty table attached to the wall. Yep, it resembled a changing area in any public restroom. I had to laugh. Hazard County and her happy-go-lucky assumptions about the things of this world always make me smile. I had to squelch the urge to actually change her diaper in that small room with the all-too-convenient privacy door. It was comfortable, clean and there were chairs. CHAIRS! Maybe Hazard County is onto something.
Memo to America: Attach your public restroom changing tables about 2 feet down on the wall and stick a chair in front of them. What mom, enduring the torture of changing a diaper in a public restroom, would not appreciate the opportunity for a short rest of her legs in a chair?
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