The first is on the evening after I’ve returned from a 5-day business trip for marketing training. It starts with a yell heard from the bathroom. “CAN I HAVE SOME BOOKS, PLEASE?” Peter has settled in to poop and wants reading material. I figured this gave me about 5-10 minutes before I would hear, “Can you help me wipe?”
It had to be some 15 minutes later before I finally heard that trigger phrase. “Daddy? Can you help me wipe… the poop off my foot?” Sure, I can help with… WHAT? This is like that joke about “Oh, your dog died.” That bad news means there’s other bad news I haven’t heard…
Sure enough, despite all that time on the toilet, he got up before he was quite finished. Poop on the seat, poop on the bathmat, poop on his foot where he stepped on the poop on the bathmat, then poop on the floor in all the places he stepped. I clean that all up and wipe him, and reflect on the fact that no amount of marketing training can really prepare you for cleaning your son’s poop off of butts, seats, mats, and feet when he fails in the bathroom.
The second story happened later that same night — apparently my 4 year old is a somnambupisst.
The boys have been asleep for an hour, and I’m half-asleep on the couch watching Patriots pre-season. Suddenly I wake up to find Jack at my side because “he has to tell me something.” He woke up to find Peter in his bedroom, with his nighttime pull-up down, PEEING on the carpet in front of him.
Sure enough, there’s a smelly wet spot (and several wet Legos… I told him he should’ve picked those up!) right in the middle of Jack’s room. I find Peter lying on the floor at the top of the stairs, looking shame-faced, and he won’t answer me when I ask him repeatedly, “WHY did you pee on Jack’s floor?” Jack tells me that Peter woke him up crying out for us first, before he wandered in and did the deed. I give Peter a new pull-up, even though his is barely wet, and he dutifully puts it on. I tell him to go back to bed and within 1 minute he’s sound asleep under the covers. He only vaguely remembers it the next morning.
Add cleaning carpet pee stains to the list of things marketing training did not have on the syllabus. We have no pets, and yet the bottle of Resolve has come in handy a few too many times.
Finally, a funny one that does NOT involve cleanup work, which happened the next day. Katherine and I are sitting in the office, post-dinner, emailing and Facebooking and catching up on the world while the boys play in the playroom together.
Peter opens the door to the office, and pokes his head through the crack. “Talk to the hand!” he exclaims. He replaces his head with his arm, and makes a little puppet with his hand. The puppet whispers: “I gotta go poop!” Then he disappears into the bathroom while the two of us giggle uncontrollably.
My kids are SILLY. How’d they get that way? Oh. Right.