There are times, as a parent, when you're not sure whether to laugh or cry or put the Good Samaritans on speed dial. One such moment took place the other day as I dashed to the master bathroom to make use of the facilities... My daughter was in view so I felt pretty confident she'd be okay in our closed bedroom. Oh yes, she'd be just fine.
It began with the laundry hamper, just out of my reach, obviously...
"No, baby... Don't take the laundry out of there... No... Oh... Noo... Put it back, please... Don't throw it all over the floor! Aww baby... Okay, thanks for stopping, at least. Where are you going? Hey... Baby? What are... Baby? Is that my drawer I hear? Oh... Baby, don't play with mommy's stuff, please... Please?"
She saunters past the open bathroom door with a smear of my stage make-up lipstick across her face with the offending stick still in her chubby little hand. She's heading for the book I'm reading. The 1000+ page book I was reading.
"Ooh. Er. Baby, don't touch that, please. That's mommy's book."
She tries to pick it up... By grasping the bookmark. She throws the apparently useless slip of paper aside. I believe it landed on top of a pair of my husband's underpants. She dutifully brings over mommy's book to her as she sits, vulnerable and near crying with her knickers around her ankles.
"It's heavy! Here you go, mommy."
Other favorite lavatory moments include her asking "Did you poop? Good girl mommy!" in public bathrooms or the ever popular ""Wipe your bum, mommy!"
I guess I ask for it since that's all she hears from me during our potty time together. I just can't wait for the "Mommy! Look at the fat lady!" comments at public swimming pools. We all know the time will come. Yeesh.