Red Plate Day

We got one of those red "You're Special" plates for our wedding. We didn't realize how, if I can say it, "special" it was at the time. So it wasn't one of the things that made the cut into the 5 bags we brought when we moved to Asia in 1999.

Too bad, because today was a Red Plate Day. Why? Well, for a reason I'm guessing most of you (unless you live on this side of the world) would never have. Ethan came to me after language class today and said, "Mom, I just pooped in the squattie for the first time!"

For those of you unfamiliar, a squattie is what we call the hole in the ground version of toilets popular here. I hate them myself. I'm pretty sure I'm using them wrong, but I'm not going to into details. I love when I go to a public restroom and there is one sitting toilet, because there's always a line for the squatties but they kindly leave the sitting one for us foreigners. I think they probably whisper about me while I'm using it, wondering why I would want to squat 2 feet off the ground.

But back to Ethan. He continued with, "I thought, 'Uh . . . I'm not sure how this is going to work' but then I just did it." He was really proud. He wanted to be the one to tell Erik later. Now if only I could get Megan to use them at all . . .

Oh, and mom and dad, I'm guessing that plate's in your basement. Next summer. I promise. That and everything else. Ok, most of it.