Good thing we're going to McDonald's.

It's Monday night after Zumba. I skipped a couple weeks because of a nasty sinus infection. It's unseasonably warm for early March at about 58 degrees.

Usually after class, I walk with my friend back to her house. Sometimes she drives me home, but I typically take a cab. Given the nice night, I decide to walk to a bigger street and take the bus.

It's a 15 minute walk to the big street. It' s nice enough outside, but the novelty of walking wears off by the time I get to the bus stop and remember that I still have to wait for the bus to show up.

I pick a spot on the SE corner. There is a stoop I can hang out on that's out of the way, but still well lit. Most people walk under the big sign and don't see me on the adjacent stoop. As was the case with a mother and son pair.

As they approach, I hear basic conversation. Nothing stands out. As they pass me, I see that he's a little boy about 8 years old and he's holding his mom's hand. Just as they stop at the corner he says, "Good thing we're going to McDonald's, I gotta take a shit."

I laughed out loud, at which point they discovered me. Mom's eyes bugged out of her head. And the little boy clapped a hand over his potty mouth. They both looked at me like I was going to send them to the principal's office.

After a really awkward second, I can see mom realizing that we are not in school and she is not in trouble. She maintains eye contact with me, but speaks to the boy, "C'mon. You been in this city too long,"