A Real Mom Moment

Today, I took Elena on her first train ride ever. She was trepidatious at first and, in fact, burst into tears before we even left the house and had to be reassured that the train WOULD NOT be scary (I PROMISE).

The train was a huge hit. She loved it and was quite happy for the first ten minutes. Too bad we had another forty-five minutes before we would arrive in Manhattan. The entire rest of the trip there and the entire trip home was peppered with questions:
"Are we there yet?"
"Is THIS Katonah, Mom?"
"What station is this?"
"How far now?"
"Are we there yet?"
"Are we there yet?"
"Are we there yet?"

Despite the familiarity with which most moms just read the above passage, this was NOT my real mom moment. My real mom moment came at a much less glamorous time, in a much less cosmopolitan setting. It was in a bathroom stall. I took my daughter into a bathroom stall. It was a large, handicapped bathroom stall with a sink INSIDE the door, no less. She loved it. The novelty of peeing in a new location was almost too much for her. She was squealing and annoucing everything.
"This is fun, Mommy!"
"I weally, weally did have to pee. Do you think I weally had to pee, Mom? I had to the whole time on the twain."
"Can you wipe me or should I wipe myself? Yeah, you wipe me, Mommy, good idea."
"Mommy, this is sink is cool. I like this bathroom. Can you help me up? This toilet is tall."

I am not sure if there was anyone else in the bathroom. But if there was, they must have been chortling right along with me. That was my mom moment. For the first time in my life, I was the mom in the bathroom with the newly potty-trained child, instead of the outsider chuckling at said mom over the echoey voice of their child chattering on about private, bathroom topics. Nope, I was the one whose privacy was invaded this time. Especially, when I sat down to pee and daughter had to annouce, with awe in her voice, "Wow! Mom! You're so big!"