“Daddy, guy” my daughter said as she crouched down in the stall of men’s room, pointing at the pair of shoes in the stall next door. I calmly told her that, yes, there was a guy over there and we had to focus on pottying. “Daddy, guy” she reiterated. She crouched down once again, her bottom hovering ever so slightly above the bathroom floor. She leaned forward, trying desperately to see up under the wall. “Daddy, guy in there.” I hadn’t been sure at first whether her interest stemmed from the fact that there was a stall with a toilet next to ours, or whether someone was actually using that stall. “Daddy, guy in there.” Yep, sure enough, there was a man in the stall next to ours. I need to explain a couple things at this point. First, the fact that my kids call all strange men “guy” is my fault. On vacation last year we saw someone sitting on a balcony near where we were staying and I said “Hey, look at the guy.” For th...
We tried for one, and we ended up with a bushel of fun.