Funny potty story from IVillage

Someone posted this that they got this email from their girlfriend, it is quite funny

Subject: Potty Training
My little guy, Cade, is quite a talker. He loves to communicate
and does it quite well. He talks to people constantly, whether
we're in the library, the grocery store or at a drive-thru window.
People often comment on how clearly he speaks for a
just-turned- 3-year-old. And you never have to ask him to turn
up the volume. It's always fully cranked. There have been
several embarrassing times that I've wished the meaning
of his words would have been masked by a not-so-audible voice,
but never have I wished this more than last week at Costco.

Halfway through our shopping trip, nature called, so I took
Cade with me into the restroom.
If you'd been one of the ladies in the restroom that evening, this is
what you would have heard coming from the second to the last stall:
''Mommy , are you gonna go potty?
Oh! Why are you putting toiwet paper on the potty, Mommy?
Oh! You gonna sit down on da toiwet paper now?
Mommy, what are you doing?
Mommy, are you gonna go stinkies on the potty?'

At this point I started mentally counting how many women
had been in the bathroom when I walked in. Several stalls
were full ... 4? 5?

Maybe we could wait until they all left before I had to
make my debut out of this stall and reveal my identity.
Cade continued:

'Mommy, you ARE going stinkies aren't you?
Oh, dats a good girl, Mommy!
Are you gonna get some candy for going stinkies on
the potty?
Let me see doze stinkies, Mommy!
Oh ... Mommy! I'm trying to see in dere.
Oh! I see dem. Dat is a very good girl, Mommy. You
are gonna get some candy!'

I heard a few faint chuckles coming from the stalls
on either side of me. Where is a screaming newborn when
you need her? Good grief. This was really getting embarrassing.
I was definitely waiting a long time before exiting. Trying to
divert him, I said, 'Why don't you look in Mommy's purse
and see if you can find some candy. We'll both have some.

'No, I'm trying to see doze more stinkies.
Oh! Mommy!'

He started to gag at this point.
'Uh - oh, Mommy. I fink I'm gonna frow up.
Mommy, doze stinkies are making me frow up!!
Dat is so gross!!'

As the gags became louder, so did the chuckles
outside my stall. I quickly flushed the toilet in hopes of
changing the subject. I began to reason with myself:
OK. There are four other toilets. If I count four flushes,
I can be reasonably assured that those who
overheard this embarrassing monologue will be long gone.

'Mommy! Would you get off the potty, now? I want you to be
done going stinkies! Get up! Get up!'
He grunted as he tried to pull me off. Now I could hear
full-blown laughter. I bent down to count the feet outside my door.

'Oh, are you wooking under dere, Mommy?
You wooking under da door?
What were you wooking at?
Mommy? You wooking at the wady's feet?'

More laughter. I stood inside the locked door and
tried to assess the situation.

'Mommy, it's time to wash our hands, now.
We have to go out now, Mommy.'
He started pounding on the door. 'Mommy,
don't you want to wash your hands? I want to go out!!'

I saw that my 'wait 'em out' plan was unraveling. I
sheepishly opened the door, and found standing outside my
stall, twenty to thirty ladies crowded around the stall, all smiling
and starting to applaud.

My first thought was complete embarrassment, then I
thought, 'Where's the fine print on the 'motherhood
contract' where I signed away every bit of my dignity and privacy?'
But as my little boy gave me a big, cheeky grin while he
rubbed bubbly soap between his chubby little hands, I thought,
I'd sign it all away again, just to be known as Mommy to this little
fellow.