The birds and I usually awaken about the same time most mornings. They, however, get on with their day, while I move about in slow motion like a bear coming out of winter hibernation. I bring in the newspapers, heat the water for my cup of ‘coffee-bag’ coffee and settle in for some quiet time. I like to turn on the TV just before 7am, to hear the local weather report and the first five minutes or so of The Today Show for the headlines and actual news, before they start dumbing it down as the show wears on.
This morning I slipped out of bed and started toward the kitchen. Midway down the hall, I realized somebody had stepped in behind me. . . somebody carrying his “mitt-mitt” blankie and giving me a dazzling smile.
“Can I hold you?” he asked in his most captivating two-year-old voice, really meaning could he be the holdee. Of course!!! Together, we let the dogs out, fed them, brought in the newspapers, and I was emptying the dishwasher when Little Rambo informed me that he needed to peepee. By himself.
I filled the teakettle while he went to the half bath off the laundry room.
A minute later he was back in the kitchen, bare-bottomed–not an unusual condition for him–but with the front of his pajama top completely soaked. I leaned over to help him remove it.
“What happened?” I asked, leading him back to the bathroom to clean him up.
“My peepee spilled,” he informed me.
Indeed it had. The wall beside the toilet, behind the toilet, the floor, his shirt…. The toilet, however, looked untouched.
I turned off the tea kettle and before The Today Show intro started, I had bathed him and scrubbed the walls, the bathroom and kitchen floors, had a load of clothes washed and in the dryer, and had fed and tended to the dogs. By that time, the other two grandsons-in-residence were awake and Curious George was taking precedence over my time with Matt Lauer.
Much later, after Dearly Beloved and the six-year-old had completed their morning ritual–shaving together–I told DB about the bathroom hosedown and admitted I was baffled as to exactly what happened to cause such wild over-shooting.
“You have to realize he’s dealing with a precision instrument there,” he told me. At my baffled look, he explained further: “He didn’t get his pants down far enough.”
Ahhh. I headed back to the bathroom. I needed to check the ceiling.