Anyhoo, whilst I was preparing, my five year old daughter Ally came barrelling into the bathroom, sat down on the floor, put her tiny little face in her tiny little hands, and just looked at me. I asked her what she was doing and she said, "Nothing." I told her what I was about to do and asked her to leave. "Why, Mama?" I told her because I wasn't comfortable with an audience.
Meanwhile, the cat came in and sat down to observe the goings on.
Ally couldn't wrap her mind around the fact that I didn't want to drop a deuce in front of her. I tried to explain to her that some things needed to be done in private. She came back with the lightning quick logic of a five year old mind: "But you come in the bathroom with me and you used to wipe my poopy booty when I wore diapers, so why can't I be in here with you?" So I tell her, "I just can't, sugar."
Then, she gives me her patented "Mama, you're such a dumb ass" look and tells me, "Sure you can. All you have to do is try really hard."
God, I love that child and my glamorous life.
7 comments:
This is why I lock the door when I go.
I haven't dropped the kids off at the pool by myself since Sam was mobile. And I don't lock the door because the constant knocking and "Mama! Mama! Mama!" doesn't make the experience any more relaxing.
You are absolutely right, lady. There's no point to locking the door. I'd have to get up mid-squat with my pants around my ankles to unlock the door anyway. Such is motherhood.
After three and a half years and dozens of hotel stays, my girlfriend has finally, brutally, been made aware that I poop.
She still does not. Ever.
It's kinda scary.
Sounds like the sister might be a bit backed up, Stuart. :)
Too funny! I won't even admit that I do poop, so you are now my personal hero.
Love the blog!
oxox
Bev, I'm sure I talk enough about pooping for the both of us.
Thanks for the kind words. You always crack me up, so I'm very flattered. :)
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