So there we were on a recent Friday evening, enjoying a rare, leisurely stroll through our local Trader Joe’s. Shopping there still feels like an urban adventure compared to the typical weeknight evening stop at our local Winn Dixie. It’s located in a part of town we don’t get to often (the nice part) but that evening we found ourselves in the general proximity so here we were, my two-year-old and I, cruising the aisles. We had as usual immediately hit the sample counter and now I was triying my best to simultaneously find the stuff on my list and explain for the hundredth time why we can’t have more samples (“But why, Mommy? Why?”). I found myself in an intense mental debate between the delish Mandarin Chicken and the healthier looking Chicken and Shiitake frozen meals when my son announced, “Mommy, I go pee-pee.” Normally this is not a problem because although we are well in the throes of potty training, he is usually in a diaper when I pick him up from his daycare for our long commute home. His caregiver was in a hurry though, and I forgot to double check and that’s how I ended up standing in a puddle of pee in the frozen foods aisle of Trader Joe’s. So… I’m thinking, do I A: abandon the pee puddle to look for an employee to notify and look like an asshole who takes no responsibility for her kid’s publicly spilled bodily fluids, B: stay in place and dutifully pass out packages of potstickers to other shoppers until a random grocery stocker walks by to assist, Or C: do I just start yelling, “Clean up on the frozen food aisle!” Considering it was prime evening shopping hours and all five employees working that night were manning their registers, I went with option “A” (“A” for asshole?) I said a silent prayer that no one would slip on my child’s urine and break a leg and made a bee-line for the weirdly tall TJ’s customer service counter that makes you feel like you’re approaching a judge’s bench. “Ummm…my son had an accident in front of the frozen Asian foods case.” The young man stared blankly at me and my wet-crotched child. Suddenly, the lightbulb came on and he asked, “Is this an accident that will require a mop?” I nodded, trying to look pitiful and repentant but he just flashed a smile and waved it off. I resisted the urge to forgo the last couple items on my list and just the hell out of the store as quickly as possible but I was NOT making another stop on my way home so we doubled back to produce. As we finally headed to the register, I peeked down frozen foods to see a spotless, dry floor. At almost 35, I’m at a point where it’s just not worth getting embarrassed or panicked anymore. After all, there’s no use crying over a little spilled pee.