Diaper

Here’s another one.

We were in LA, had done Venice Beach all afternoon, and were driving through crazy, slow LA rushhour traffic to our hotel which was way out of the city, I think 1.5 hour drive. The girls were still in their suits and covered with sand, but extremely perky and happy. Zoe suddenly announced that she needed to go to the bathroom. We were stopped in traffic and didn’t have many options. We exited at the next exit that showed a gas station on the gps. Now Zak and I don’t usually get freaked out by our urban surroundings, but neither of us felt safe at this exit. We both trusted our gut and got back on the highway. At this point Zoe is crying because she has to go to the bathroom so badly. We go a few more slow miles and realize we’re not going to be able to find a spot. I really don’t want to have to deal with a wet carseat. I reach into the truck and grab a couple of diapers. Zoe says no. They are only a size 5 and she’s at least a 6. She starts sobbing and I know time is limited. I grab a crayon and write a large 6 on the front of the diaper, show her it’s size, and much to our relief she is pleased. We pull over on the side of the freeway as cars stroll by us. I quickly hop out and strap a diaper on over her suit. I did the same for Ellie because she now had to go as well, a very common theme on this trip. I zoom back in the car and Zak pulls back into the traffic. Within minutes, through a giant smile, zoe announces, “I’m going!! In a diaper!!” Ellie quickly follows suit. I’m pretty sure the four of us have never laughed so hard. They each went three more times before we got to the hotel, just for kicks. And when we got there I removed the wettest diapers I’ve ever encountered!

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