For further discussion

Good grief! Vicki helped out at Samson's school today with the pre-Christmas pizza party. Before they left, she noticed he was doing the jeans grab, so she walked him to the bathroom and then waited outside with Jane.

If you've never been to a preschool bathroom, it combines all the glare (and hopefully antibacterial qualities) of an airport restroom with the open-kitchen layout in vogue at upscale chain restaurants.

As she waited for Samson to pee, a big [read: four-year-old] kid walked in. What happened next could have been worse, but I think I'll have to have a talk with young Samson tonight about bathroom protocol.

Vicki couldn't see what was going on, but she could hear the big kid's half of the conversation, which went something like: "Hey, stop looking at me! No I don't sit down. Are you saying I'm a girl? Stop looking at me! Don't talk to me!"

Anyway, Samson managed not to get beat up in the bathroom, and Vicki managed not to have to intervene, so it all ended OK.

But I guess he thought my "don't look at anything and don't touch anything" advice only applied to rest stops on the Jersey Turnpike.

It doesn't. Poor little guy.