My 6-year-old needs to use the restroom about every 15 minutes. I’ve practically memorized the locations of all the bathrooms in our regular haunts. If it’s not my oldest, then my 4-year-old is squirming and complaining. I know I should be more understanding—really. It feels like just five minutes ago we took a bathroom break, and now I’m faced with the task of wrangling both boys, along with their 2-year-old brother, into the restroom while simultaneously ensuring that the baby doesn’t touch anything. Empathy tends to take a backseat in these situations.
This scenario played out repeatedly—like when my toddler was nearly licking the walls in the Target restroom and thought it was his duty to hand me toilet paper as if I were royalty, while my other boys wandered into different stalls. Eventually, in a moment of exasperation, I pointed to the family restroom at Target and said, “Okay. Go ahead. Blaise, take August with you.”
And they did. Presumably, they managed to pull their pants down, do their business, and wash their hands, all without causing chaos. It felt like a breakthrough.
They often prefer the men’s room. I advise them, “If anyone tries to talk to you or touch you, scream as loud as you can.” They nod in agreement, which seems sensible, and slip into the restroom lined with urinals. Usually, they beat me to it, or if I can’t keep an eye on them. I’d rather they didn’t go in alone, especially without their dad nearby. Maybe it’s the urinals that give me pause. Despite knowing that statistically, you’re much more likely to face harm from someone you know than a stranger, I still feel uneasy about my young boys in the men’s room—even when I’m right outside.
That’s why I allow them to use the women’s restroom instead. While it’s true that women can also be a threat, the statistics show that the risk is significantly lower. Plus, I don’t have to worry about the baby rolling around on the restroom floor, or standing awkwardly while I wait for them to finish their business, which includes washing their hands and playing with the hand dryer.
Many people think I’m out of my mind for sending my 6- and 4-year-olds into public restrooms alone. They fear molestation, vandalism, or that my kids won’t wash their hands—what if one of them forgets to close the door and someone abducts them?
But honestly, I don’t concern myself with those possibilities—except for the hand-washing part. I always check to make sure their hands are wet when they emerge.
I send my boys in together, typically to the women’s restroom. This sometimes results in complaints about wanting to use the men’s room (nope), or the sibling who isn’t using the restroom not wanting to tag along (too bad). I remain close by—some might say hovering—or I keep a watchful eye on the door, especially in public spaces. If they’re taking too long, I’ll call into the bathroom. More often than not, it means they’re having a bowel movement, and I remind them that they’re on their own when it comes to wiping. My boys understand not to engage in any mischief, and most importantly, I believe they’re safe from harm.
Now, regarding concerns about transgender individuals using the women’s restroom: what if they encounter my little boys? It’s essential to recognize that gender-diverse individuals are not inherently dangerous. In fact, statistics show zero reported cases of transgender individuals attacking children in public restrooms. I’d expect a trans woman to assist my child in reaching the soap rather than harming them. They pose less risk than cisgender individuals, who are statistically more likely to be involved in such acts, making my decision to let my kids use the restroom independently both convenient and liberating.
I understand that some will never accept this viewpoint, insisting against all logic that my sons are at risk the moment they’re out of my sight. They may argue it’s better to be cautious, and that I should keep them with me until they’re old enough to fend for themselves. Yet, I trust the statistics.
Allowing my children to navigate public restrooms independently fosters their growth. They gain a sense of autonomy and responsibility, and I appreciate that opportunity for them.