“Wake up!” said Miss3, bursting into our bedroom at dumb-o’clock this morning. “Mummy, get out of bed!”
I wanted to snicker because Tracey got a specific mention, but that would have let on I wasn’t still asleep. On a related matter, I’ve only just cottoned on to why the kids come ask me about stuff at all. What did your Mum say? will almost always elicit the reply She said we had to ask you.
“How about you get into bed with us instead?” Tracey suggested to Miss3.
But our youngest was having none of that.
“No, you have to come see!”
“Come see what?” asked Tracey, a note of suspicion entering her voice.
In all of a second I’d visualized everything from a dropped bottle of milk in the kitchen to a lump of cat’s poo on a bed. So,naturally, despite the near yelling and shaking bed, I continued to lay very, very still and focus on my breathing – with fake sleep breaths you don’t want to make a lot of sound, you just want to keep it slow and steady.
But it was nothing as dreadful as I imagined.
“I do a poo! Come and see!”
Tracey sunk back into her pillow.
“I’ll come and see later.”
“NO! You have to come and see NOW!” demanded Miss3, and I felt rather than saw (because, you know, my eyes were still fast asleep) her latch onto Tracey’s arm and attempt to drag her towards the door…well actually, as Tracey’s legs were still in the bed, towards the floor.
“But I’m still asleep,” insisted my wife. Then she had an idea. “Why don’t you tell me about it?”
The sounds and vibrations of a struggle on the other side of the bed stopped.
“It was a good one, Mummy,” said Miss3. “I did a little poo…then a big poo…” I can only assume the gaps meant she was using her hands to show just how big or small her deposits were, “and then another little poo.” But in talking about it, her already high-pitched, nails-down-a-blackboard voice had gone up yet another octave and the bed began to shake again as she relatched onto her mum. This was super exciting stuff. “Come ON!”
And you can’t blame the little darling for thinking her mother would want to see this. We’ve spent six months encouraging and talking up all things loo related. We’ve been applauding and praising so much as a bum burp in an effort to finally clear our lives of the double edged sword that are nappies.
I know this is a bit of an aside, but have you ever wondered what they did before nappies? Before cloth nappies even? I waste hours scaring myself with these sorts of thoughts.
So now Miss3 is finally weeing and pooing successfully in the loo, we’ve got to start downplaying the amazingness of it so we don’t have to be there for the watery farewell – especially at dumb-o’clock. Her being the last of seven kids we at least know we will get there.
Although there’s one other thing we’ve been doing to help get her toilet trained, and it’s probably going to be the hardest hurdle of all to get her trained out of.
“See!” I heard Miss3 say to her Mum. There was much pride in her voice.
“Very nice,” mumbled Tracey, and I could just picture them looking appreciatively into the bowl together. “Good work.”
There was a flush and next thing they were walking through the kitchen back towards our bedroom to try salvage some zzzzs. Except it wasn’t over just yet.
“Wait, Mummy, wait!” yelled Miss3, getting to what I think was the main aim of the whole ‘come see my poo’ episode. “Where’s my poo chocolate?”
Yep, I suspect it’ll be as hard to get her out of this exchange your poo-for-chocolate habit as it was to get her into it.
But the rewards when we do will be great. For a start, I won’t have to lie as much to my wife – and that’s gotta be a good thing.
“I’ll go,” I mumbled while they were climbing back into bed, and I made the ginormous effort to roll towards the two of them, eyes still shut, as they climbed back into bed. “You need your sleep.”
“I’ve already done it,” said Tracey dryly. “Like you don’t know.”
How could she tell? Did I snicker involuntarily? Did I move? Was my breathing, if anything, too perfectly regular?
“You stopped snoring.”
“Raising a family on little more than laughs.”