I’ve just released Peter Parker from his leash. His little terrier legs are running free at the dog park. Four year old Cole isn’t racing after his best friend like he usually does; instead he’s doing some awkward sort of calisthenics. I’ve seen this dance before.
“Why didn’t you go before we left the house? There’s no bathroom here.”
“I have to pee Mom!” If it wasn’t abundantly clear, now he’s grasping at his crotch in addition to bouncing around. I have an urge to cross my own legs and hope he doesn’t injure himself.