Tagged: FAIL

House Potty

PottyPotty training is in full force at Fort Pseudonymous, opening up the entire dwelling to excretory crossfire. We’ve had good days and we’ve had bad days, but the bad days are way more eventful, and thus way more entertaining. Accordingly, I’ve curated the following very special moments from our experiences with The Great Transition, so that you may laugh at our expense. (Fair warning: This is called “House Potty” for a reason.)

. . .

The Organ Trail

“Hey baby, do you have to go potty?”

“No,” my daughter giggled as she sprinted laps around the house with her brother in crime.

I’d asked her at least three times in the past five minutes because she’d just downed an entire cup of water, and I knew it was coming.

I returned my attention to the mound of dishes in the sink, and after rinsing a few more glasses, looked up again to see her standing in the middle of the living room with a look of distress.

“What happened, baby?” I asked, dread welling up inside me. “Did you go pee pee?”

I then noticed the carpeted floor surrounding my daughter, where she had left a liquid trail behind her: first a circle around the perimeter of the room, then looping around the ottoman, a few sharp turns, and finally a puddle at her feet.

She had essentially created a real-life version of the Family Circus comics depicting Billy’s wayward path through various scenes but…well…with urine.

The Family Circus - Billy's Dotted Line

My daughter–who stood there frozen–had still not answered me, so I asked again. “Baby, did you go pee pee?”

“…No…”

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Buddy and the Great Glass Water Sprayer

“Are you sure you don’t want to come in, Buddy?” my wife called from inside the shower.

I’d love to say the offer was directed at me in a completely different context (Giggity!), but in this case she was addressing my son.

On that particular evening my wife and I had decided that we simply were NOT into the whole bathtime ordeal, so in an effort to mix up the normal nighttime routine (and to get the kid-cleaning over with quickly) we opted for a co-shower approach, with my wife being the Wet Cop and me the Dry Cop.

My daughter, who thoroughly enjoys the shower, had already been sanitized and was now playing with her cherished set of three tiny blue rubber duckies on the shower floor, quacking happily to herself. My son, however, stood a few feet back from the glass shower door, scowling at it while wearing nothing but a diaper.

He shook his head. “No. No like shower. Scared.”

For some reason, my son has a shower phobia. I couldn’t tell you why, because he loves all other aquatic activities–baths, hand-washing, swimming, sprinklers, and especially our new water table, which, within his first ten minutes of use, prompted him to loudly declare the following rave review: “I’M HAVING FUN!!! I’M HAVING FUN!!!”

Water Table

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The Old Days

Every once in a while, my wife daydreams about what it would be like if we lived during a different time in history. However, her “creative” interpretation of which historical events actually happened when often prompts her to fact-check with me before launching into said daydream. For example:

Wife: When was World War I?

Me: The 1910s.

Wife: Okay, then I think I could live in the 1920s.

Me: You sure you could handle Prohibition?

Wife: Oh, that was then? Never mind. That’d be stupid.

.

And so this weekend, while savoring a slice of cheese from a Costco platter, she mused…

Wife: I think I could live in the Old Days. They at least had cheese, right?

Me: I guess that depends which “old days” you’re talking about. Like, what time period?

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The Easter Visor

“You don’t have an Easter bonnet for her?” my mother gasped.

My wife had just unveiled the dress she’d bought our daughter to wear for Easter, but apparently it was an incomplete ensemble. “Um, no?” my wife replied, confused.

“But how can she go to church on Eater Sunday without an Easter bonnet?”

Something my wife did not learn until this Easter is the importance my mother places on the little girls in our family having bonnets to accompany their dresses on Easter Sunday. Growing up with two younger sisters, I remember it being the biggest effing deal every year for them to find the perfect hats for their outfits, because my dad and I would wait for my mom and sisters outside of every damn clothing store in the mall, wondering what the hell was taking them so long, often ditching them to buy me a couple of packs of baseball cards. (Thanks, Dad!)

“Well,” my mother smiled. ” Don’t worry. I’ll find her a bonnet.”

We weren’t worried, Mom.

With all that my wife and I have going on (and the knowledge that no hat stays on my daughter’s head for longer than five minutes anyway), our feeling was, Sure, if it will make your heart sing to get her a bonnet, knock yourself out.

Sure enough, a day or two later, when we were picking up the kids from her house, my mother presented us with a pinkish-purple bonnet she boasted to have found at our local “everything-costs-one-dollar” store, a place she now swears by as THE place to find fun toys, stickers, and holiday favors for the Twins without breaking the bank.

We had to admit, the bonnet was pretty darn adorable, so it was settled–our daughter now had an Easter bonnet and my mother would finally be able to sleep at night again.

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Things I Did This Weekend: A Non-Exhaustive List

1. Woke up at 3am both mornings to rescue the Twins from drowning in a sea of their own mucus, caused by a recent onslaught of sickness.

2. Wiped tiny noses every thirty seconds, literally working through six boxes of tissues.

3. Wiped tiny squirts of child cold medicine defiantly spat at me off my face every four to six hours.

4. Listened to my washing machine suddenly start playing dubstep mid-cycle, culminating in a crash and sudsy water pooling below it.

My washing machine needs potty training

I told it three times to let me know if it needed to go potty.

5. Helped my wife scour the Pseudonymous Family’s vast collection of receipts and instruction booklets for the washing machine’s warranty information, continually chasing down toddlers who took off running with unsearched piles, wiping their noses on them.

6. Worked during too-short naptimes and into the wee hours of the night on a National Science Foundation research grant proposal that is due Wednesday and nowhere near done.

7. Got my son to repeat “My Precious” several times after he woke up from a nap with a raspy, swollen-sinus voice that made him sound exactly like Gollum. Which made it all worth it.

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