Sitting at the kitchen bench this morning, the LGBB chatting to her Little People and making them take turns with each other (No, iss not your turn, iss MY turn... No! Not MY turn, iss MY turn! Geez, are they bossy... and slightly confused), I was writing in her baby book for the first time this year - oops - and putting in little facts and anecdotes from all my hastily scribbled notes I've been compiling until I found the baby book. It was so well packed somewhere out there in the garage, where we still have literally half of our possessions that I couldn't believe I came across it when I did and was so excited that I had to write in it to celebrate.
The LGBB came up to me as I was taking a sip of tea and held out her curled fist, thumb and index finger pinching something or so I thought. Wassat? she says to me, curiosity in her voice. What's what? I answered her. And then I did a dumb thing. I held out my hand to receive what was in her fingers. And that's when she unfurled her fist and let a little pebble drop out into my waiting palm. A strangely organic-looking pebble. Hmmm, animal, vegetable or mineral? Oh. Last night's dinner I think.
"Ummmm, Lauryn.... that's poo," I say calmly, my mind ticking fast. She's not become one of those kids who reaches in to her nappy and does a bit o' paintin' has she? She's such a neat little girl, that's so unlike her. And as I looked past her slightly worried and concerned upturned face, her eyes searching mine to see if this was a good, bad or indifferent interaction we were having, I saw another larger "pebble" on the floorboards over where she'd been playing.
So I got up and fetched something to collect the poo in, before stooping to check what was going on with her nappy. That's right, I realised as soon as I had opened her pants - we've run out of 'sposies and Steve had put her in a Bum Genius..... the very same that had the weakened applix tabs (many of them are still in great nick, but one or two are dodgy as and wouldn't you know it, he used one of those - what were my chances?). So I sigh - under my breath, and yes, it is possible to sigh under your breath, are you with me? - and carry her to the nearest bathroom. Poor little poppet was SO sure she'd done something wrong and I had to stifle a giggle at her expense as she lay there making the sweetest, most obviously embarrassed, distraction-tactic small talk, complete with little chuckles over garbled words and hands flying to mouth in mock shock over whatever it was she was trying to relay. I had to correct her when she said she was silly though. I explained then what had happened and she listened intently as I let her know she had not done anything silly, or wrong, and that her nappy had, well, malfunctioned. Although I think I probably said it was her nappy that was the silly one, or something like that.
So I braced myself and began to delicately unwrap the present so kindly laid by the LGBB for me. I kid you not, it was phantom poo. I saw track marks down both her legs, which promptly reminded me of Mr Hanky bouncing all over Kyle's bathroom and leaving brown squelch marks wherever he lands as he sings merrily, but no more poo. Not even any further pebbles. Curious. Then I had visions of those two little pebbles leaving these trails as they made their way down her pant legs onto my floor. They couldn't have possibly made such happy trails, could they? They were too small, surely. And I then couldn't get the tune On Top Of Old Smokey (with that lyric change about the spaghetti, all covered with cheese, I lost my meatball when somebody sneezed... you must know the one, surely) out of my head after that. I was certain it must be at least meatball size, whatever I was looking for.
But no. Nothing further in her nappy. Best start setting to and clean her up, I thought, looking down at her still twittering away to herself (probably trying hard to imagine herself anywhere but here, because she's beginning to get all shy about getting her nappy changed and bum wiped so YEEEEE-HAR, toilet training hopefully will start soon - and I only say yee-har because I have a regular little mite who does three square, well not square, poos per day. Without fail. Threeeee! And that's just the minimum. So next time you complain about that one a day you are still changing that's making you look forward to potty time.... think of me, won't you?).
Before my brain could command control of my hands as I was preparing to kneel back down and begin the clean up, I suddenly realised the pants (pj's) I was holding were a tad heavier than they ought to be and without thinking, I shook them. Why? Why did I shake her pants, dear reader?? Of course you know what happened, don't you. The weightiness was all made perfectly clear as the rest of the LGBB's previous night's dinner *cough* flopped onto the floor at my feet.
I could have cried. But it was so funny, I almost whistled while I cleaned.
I am going mad with her here at home. Can you tell?
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