Too much water for Phoebe

This is just a preamble while I gather my thoughts on our day. It's been a long time since we've gone on a family adventure! Rachel wasn't sure it was wise to join us because she had a few assignments to finish before this evening, but we convinced her that she could work on things in the car—she even got to ride in the front seat so that she wouldn't be bugged by her siblings. She finished with plenty of time to spare. 

Here's Phoebe in the backseat holding up her drawing pad (she's drawn a giraffe munching leaves from a tree):

Prior to hopping in the car for our long drive we had gone to the stake center for an (early) Easter activity—a walk through Jesus' life. At the station where the woman at the well was speaking to us everyone got a water bottle. 

Phoebe somehow convinced someone in the back seat to open this for her and guzzled the whole thing down without anyone realizing how fast she drank it...and that soon became a problem. She needed to go potty. 

We drove and drove and drove and finally found a gas station to pull over at. 

I ran her inside and we popped into the bathroom...

Now, ordinarily, I feel guilty stopping at places to use the facilities without buying anything. So we usually get a little gas. Or some "vile liquid" to keep awake. Or—today—we had to grab some extra allergy medicine for anyone who forgot to take some before leaving the house (the pollen counts were off the chart today). But today I didn't feel guilty for not buying anything because...

Whoever had been in the bathroom before us had stopped the sink up with paper towel and left the water running full blast! 

It was a mere centimeter or two away from overflowing. 

So I turned off the sink, took the wad of paper towel off the drain, took Phoebe potty, and considered stopping the bathroom from flooding to be our payment. 

We got back on the road but...that water bottle was a lot of water for a little person...and only 10 minutes or so later Phoebe said, "Uh-oh!"

"What?"

"I have to go again!" she said.

We were squarely in the middle of no where now. So we told her to wait.

She waited and waited and waited. She waited so long and so hard that the only thing left for her to do was cry about it, so she did. She cried and she cried and she cried.

She cried for about half an hour before we finally pulled up at our destination (which was just as close as any gas station) and I ran her inside to find the bathroom while Andrew unloaded the rest of the kids (most of whom are fully capable of unloading by themselves these days, but it still takes a surprising amount of organization to do so in an un-chaotic fashion).

"Welcome to the Georgia Wri..."

"Hi!" I said. "I promise I will come back and sign your guest book and listen to what you have to say, but first...can we use your bathroom really quick?!"

"Sure thing! All the way at the end of the hallway to your left!"

"Thank you!!!"

I bustled down to the potty with Phoebe (where she found great relief) and then we returned to the lobby and signed the guest book and chatted with the girl at the counter for a minute before exploring the museum.