Why Have You Got Hair There?

There are certain questions you really don’t want shouted across a public toilet.

Apparently, this happened to an au pair who was out with a young child and desperately needed a wee. Now, anyone who has ever looked after a small child knows the problem: you can’t exactly leave them standing outside the cubicle while you nip in.

So, in they went together.

Door locked. Trousers down. Sit down. Nothing remotely remarkable happening.

Until…

“Why have you got HAIR THERE?”

Loudly.

Of course.

Because children don’t ask personal questions quietly. They announce them as though they’ve just discovered a previously unknown species.

And suddenly you become acutely aware that there are several other women sitting approximately six inches away from you, separated only by some flimsy partitioning, and every single one of them has stopped rustling toilet paper.

Silence.

Complete silence.

What do you even say?

“Well, darling, when people grow up…”

Too late.

“BUT I HAVEN’T GOT ANY!”

Wonderful.

Thank you for clarifying that for the entire ladies’ toilets.

I remember hearing this story and laughing because beneath the embarrassment there’s something rather lovely about it.

The child wasn’t horrified. She wasn’t disgusted. She hadn’t decided there was anything wrong with the adult body in front of her.

She’d simply spotted something different and asked why.

That was it.

It was the grown-up who wanted the cubicle floor to open and swallow her.

And I wonder how often we do that.

We spend years learning which parts of our perfectly ordinary bodies we’re meant to hide, whisper about or pretend don’t exist. Then along comes a small person who hasn’t learnt any of those rules yet and casually asks the question at full volume.

Perhaps there’s a little lesson in that.

Bodies really aren’t nearly as complicated as we make them.

Although if you’re going to have that revelation, I’d still prefer it wasn’t announced from Cubicle Three.