Have You Ever Been Afraid of a Six Year Old?

Have you ever been afraid of a six year old boy? I have. It was a Saturday morning of shopping and hopefully a nice lunch out. We found ourselves in Schaumburg, Illinois in and around Woodfield Mall. We filled most of our trunk with gifts to ourselves. The list of needs was dwindling fast but we had a few stubborn items that were resisting. We decided to go to another store that has lots of eclectic home goods.

In the parking lot, I popped the trunk and grabbed a couple of empty bags for potential purchases. It was a wet spring morning. We dodged puddles and zigzagged our way to the main entrance. Once inside, I announced to my wife that I was heading to the restrooms. She could start shopping and searching. I turned away as she reached for an empty shopping cart. I threw the bags in and meandered my way through the store heading for the northwest corner where the facilities were located.

I knew this store well and I knew where the restrooms were. There was a hallway just past the bedding department. It was equipped with his & her restrooms and a water fountain in between. I turned into the hallway and made my way to the men’s facilities. I noticed the music was cheerfully filling the whole store, most likely unconsciously encouraging customers to purchase more products. Directly in front of me and gathered around the water fountain was a young mother with a shopping cart. There were three children with her, one in the cart with her selected items, one in her left arm and hip, and one in toe leaning over the child-fountain, lapping up cold water. I pushed the men’s restroom door in and entered.

The room was well lit like one would expect and all of the porcelain fixtures were ready and waiting. I was alone. I approached a short row of urinals selecting the appropriate unit. There is actually a science to selecting the right one since most people tend to avoid human contact or improper involvement in such a discreet and restrained environment. If there are five urinals and two are occupied, most men will analyze the situation quickly and carefully to ensure they do not send the wrong message by getting too close to the other users. But I digress.

I heard a door open and footsteps pass behind me. A customer was planning on sitting this one out instead of choosing a unit far from me. I had a whole pot of tea that morning and got through most of the song that was piping into the room. I heard a distant flush and someone stood up. They passed behind me again, this time on their way to a bank of sinks. A wall separated us so I had no idea who it was.

I was done “shaking-the-dew-off-the-Lily”, when I flushed and zipped. I was on my way to the sinks too. As I rounded the separating wall I spotted my restroom colleague. He was a six year old boy. He barely reached the sink and faucet. He was washing his hands like a good boy learned to do from his mother. I approached the counter two sinks down and found some soap. We smiled at each other through the mirror but did not say anything. We both finished washing our hands at the same time and found paper towels. We turned around to leave at the same time and arrived at the door concurrently. I reached for the door handle planning to allow him to exit first because like a good man, I had learned my manners well from my mother too. The door did not open. It was locked.

He reached for the handle with no better result than I. Fear ran across his face as he sensed danger in a way he could not describe. I saw the fear in his eyes as I am quite sure he saw it in mine. My mind was racing fast and I was mentally connecting dots that made me grab for the handle again. “Mommy?!” he said with a worried tone. “What honey?” She was just outside the door with her cart and remaining children. “The door is stuck” I said, trying to sound calm. Now there were three people in fear. “Who the hell are you?!!” My stomach flipped. Everything was escalating all too fast. I said, “I am stuck in her with your son”. That didn’t come out quite how I expected. “Stay away from my son! I’m calling the manager and maybe the cops too!” “Lady, I am more afraid at this moment than you or your child!” I pulled at the door two more times. Then I heard something soft and sinister. With all the excitement going on, I could not register what I was hearing.

Then, like an answered prayer, a gift from above, I heard my dear sweet wife’s voice. “Mike, what is going on?” “Your husband has locked himself in the bathroom with my son!” “He what?!” she returned. “Don’t listen to her!” I yelled, “Something is wrong with the door!” Then the sinister sound suddenly stopped just as I knew what it was, a giggling child’s voice, no doubt up to no good. Just then the manager arrived. “Can I help you?” he said calmly. “You have customers locked in your men’s room” my wife responded professionally. He leaned in and pushed at the door and got the same response but with quick observation he noticed the little boy with his hand on a floor lock and said, “Lady, your son has pushed the door’s floor lock down, that’s the issue” “Johnny what have you done?! This is not funny!” She was stern. “Please unlock the door? I want to get out of here!” I demanded. I refused to make eye contact with my fellow prisoner. “There, it’s unlocked now,” the manager said. I felt the door wiggle a bit. The boy and I grabbed the handle at the same time. The door opened. He ran to his mother’s side and I ran to my wife’s side. The expected dirty looks were exchanged and then the incident was over.

I had lost all interest in shopping for the day. I needed a drink.

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