Three More Bag Nights

Here comes this first in a series of posts about our recent camping trip on the Metolius River. I'm at a conference in Bend as I type, and my internet access is spotty, but I'll do my best to get some info up.

Sing a Song of Pit Toilets

On our last camping trip, Wrigley developed an (ir)rational fear of pit toilets. At first, she displayed disdain. And yes, she’s right, they smell bad. Then distaste. And, yes again, she’s right, they’re gross. Finally, her fear blossomed into outright dismay. Under intense third degree interrogation, she revealed the fact that she’s worried that she will fall into the pit. And, yes again, if you’ve ever made the mistake of accidentally looking into the pit toilet, that would be a disgusting thing to have happen to you.

One of my biggest struggles as a professional Dad is dealing with irrational fears. Part of me understands and acknowledges that Wrig’s fears are real and valid. She has a tiny bottom and the hole in the seat seems awfully big. I, for one, can’t imagine anything much worse that tumbling head over heels into a deep dark pit of … well, you get the point. I understand why she feels the way she does, it’s just an incredible hassle dealing with her emotions. A very large part of me wants to scream “Get over it!” A much smaller, more reasonable, and persistent part of me wants to help her overcome of fear. That rational part of me has learned that I can’t make Wrigley learn anything until she’s ready.

Her pit toilet anxiety cast a pall over our first day of camping. On Tuesday night, Christie and I were talking about canceling our next trip. Neither of us could fathom dealing with Wrig’s apprehension (and the accompanying whining) for another two days.

So.

Christie came up with the brilliant idea of using song to distract the child from the terror of the pit toilets. For two days straight, we have been singing a variety of songs with the same theme: I hate pit toilets.

All of this has been a very lengthy preamble with which I would like to introduce my favorite four lines of song from the camping trip. Feel free to invent your own melody. My melody changes every time I try to sing it.

Pit toilets … are the pits.
There’s no clean place to sit!
I’m at the end of my wits
with Pit. Toi. Lits!

(And if that was the best, can you imagine the worst?)