I saw the dance. It was a slight wiggle, followed by a jumping motion. Even though she tried to ignore it, I knew my daughter had to pee. I asked her, "Abby, do you need to go to the potty?" She firmly denied it and went right on playing. Inevitably, it happened. I heard the little cry and when I looked up, I saw her standing there with wet pants.
Too bad this happened in the middle of the park. After she met a new friend. Right before the softball game we were there to watch.
She began crying, not out of embarrassment (she really does not get that, yet), but because she knew I did not have a change of clothes and she was about to start playing with her friend Caleb. The world as she knew it was over.
I began to clean her up with wipes in the privacy of the park restroom (always lovely). The cries coming from her while I explained she might not be able to play with her friend Caleb musically echoed out of the restroom for all the public to hear (I am surprised I was not arrested for suspicion of child abuse). Oh yeah-Caleb decided to poop in his pull-up at the same time. That was really great.
Necessity is indeed the mother of invention. I found the clean towel I always keep in the back of the van for dewey mornings at the park (see Becky, it really does come in handy!) and wrapped it around her naked bottom. True, she could only sit and watch her brother Caleb play with her friend Caleb, for fear of showing too much, but at least she got to stay a little longer.
(I could have let her try and run with the towel on, but I just did not feel it was the day to traumatize her friend who only has brothers. I can imagine the fear when he realized something was missing.)
Ironically enough, when I asked her what her favorite part of the day was, she replied, "Watching the Calebs play together-I just laughed and laughed!"
This girl went from being completely miserable to completely joyful just from watching others be happy. That is more than I can say for myself. I am still sitting here feeling bad for myself because I had to change a four-year old's peed on clothes, a two-year old's poopy pull-up all the while still feeling the pain from the bruise on my thumb I received while attempting to fix Abby's bike. Then came home with two very tired children, gave them baths, while the filthy, sand-covered two-year old decided to rotate between the tub and the potty because he kept thinking he had to go.
(Why do I ever clean my bathrooms-there really is no point.)
Which is why I write-to see the humor in the moments that make one want to scream.