Dr.

It was a third time that day when I felt an unnatural warmth begin where the child was sitting on my leg.

I'd grown past being disgusted by it.

As I felt the first drops begin to roll down my leg, I lifted the boy under the armpits and

set him on his feet next to my chair.

He started crying.

And the piece of paper he was gripping tightly in his little fist fell from his hand.

Hey, little man, it's okay, I said.

It happens.

Let's go get to your mom so you can get cleaned up.

I looked up and saw a pretty blonde woman with arms full of shopping bags.

She was already hurrying over, alerted either by the tears or the enormous wet spot on her

son's pants.

I'm his mom she said through rapid breaths.

I ma'am I said as she walked up.

It seems like we've had a bit of an accident.

The mom's face flushed, clearly a bit embarrassed.

Oh, I'm so sorry. This has never happened before, she said. It's really okay.

Part of the job, I said chuckling.

The little dude continued to ball his eyes out.

I gave him my very best Santa head pat and told him again that it was okay.

Please, Santa, you have to let us get you cleaned up, the mom said.

...