Gotta Go

A blush and a smile

The young couple held the little boy’s hands as they shuffled through the busy airport. He was barely old enough to walk as he looked around in amazement at all the strange people in these new surroundings.

“I ga go,” he yelled loud enough for his parents and forty people nearby to hear.

Dad, a thin balding man, stooped low and repeated his statement as a question, “You gotta go, Dylan?”

“Yep. Ga go. Ga go, Daddy.”

Dad and Mom scanned the walls opposite the gate areas for Men and Women signs.

Dad spotted the signs first, snatched the boy into his arms, and said, “I got this, Sue. Here, take my bag.”

“I ga go, Daddy. I ga go,” Dylan said.

“All right, Son. Hang on.”

With his son in his arms, Dad started jogging towards the Men’s Washroom and shouted, “Make way. Make way. Kid’s gotta go! Kid’s gotta go!”

Like the Red Sea parting for Moses, so was Dad and Dylan’s path to the Men’s room.

Ten minutes later when Dylan came skipping out of the washroom holding his father’s hand, he saw his Mom and yelled, “Mommy. I just peed by myself. Just peed.”

Her wide smile outshined her blushing face as onlookers applauded the boy rushing into his mother’s arms.