Where Are Those Wet Wipes?
Our little girl is coming along pretty well with her bathroom issues, which is good, because the less I’m involved the better. The only problem we’re having right now is getting her to want to go. Accidents are at a minimum, but half the time we have to notice her squeezing her legs shut or walking kind of funny to know that she needs to go.
The fun begins once she’s on the potty, you know, toilet. She goes number one every time but she absolutely does not want to poop, aka crap. No matter what we tell her she insists that she does not have to go. When I say insists, I mean she screams and whines and tells us “no, no, no!” This reminds me a little of the discussion my wife and I have when it’s time for me to get out of bed in the morning and when it’s time for her to get into bed at night.
We’ve learned that time is all she needs to get the job done. My wife came up with a brilliant solution; we can stall her with the notion that we’ll be back in a minute with the wet wipes to help her clean up. Little does she know that we have no intention of going back in the bathroom until she stinks it up.
The other night this strategy backfired on us. The usual took place: the argument; the reluctant sitting; and the “I’m getting the wet wipes” lie. About two minutes after the retrieving proclamation I heard a tiny self assured voice emanate from the way too purple downstairs bathroom.
“The wet wipes are in here. Hey guys, the wet wipes are in here.”
I stopped in my tracks and shook my head in disbelief. I wasn’t sure what to say to my little angel to keep her glued to the porcelain waste receptacle this time because we didn’t have a back-up plan and my thinking on my feet skills aren’t what they used to be. So instead of saying anything, I waited a minute or two and I got lucky; she finished her task successfully. So I guess even when a job isn’t well done it can still be done well if the right people are involved. I’m speaking of the two lovely ladies that I share a home with, of course.
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