Damn. At this rate, I'm not even going to be invited to the Mom of the Year banquet.
So Andrew took a nap today. He's exhausted with all the fresh air we've been getting. There was still no lock on his door, since we took it off when Great-Grandma stayed in his room (we didn't see the need to lock her in ;) ). I told him NOT to come out until his nap time was finished, which would be when the clock said 2. He tried to sneak out right at the beginning and I had a cow.
Fast forward 2 hours later. It's 3:30 and I hear him knocking at his bedroom door to come out. Cute, since he could just come out...but he's a good boy listening to his mommy. As I walk up the steps, I notice a wet spot on the carpet. Interesting. Did I spill water?
When I opened Andrew's bedroom door, it took me a while to figure out what had happened to him, but I'll spare you that mental journey. Here's Andrew's afternoon, which is taking me right off the guest list to aforementioned banquet.
Andrew watches Mommy have a tizzy fit about him wandering out of his room during nap time. Andrew reads a few books and then climbs into bed and falls asleep. He wakes up desperately needing to go to the bathroom. The clock doesn't say "2" like mommy said, but, gee, he really has to go. So Andrew bolts out of his room and makes his way to the toilet. As he stands in front of the potty trying to pull his pants down, he pees EVERYWHERE. Through his pants, soaking the rug, EVERYWHERE. (when I found it I thought the toilet must have overflowed...but it was just his accident). Andrew hates being wet, he is embarrassed and grossed out. He starts to walk down the steps to find me to remedy this nasty situation. Halfway down the stairs (dripping urine the whole way), he realizes that the clock doesn't say "2" so Mommy will probably have another tizzy that he left his room. Add that to the fact that he has covered the bathroom and himself with pee...yikes. So out of fear of his mother's wrath, Andrew climbs the steps to his room, closes his bedroom door, and stands dripping pee and knocking the door.
Poor baby. Imagine my confusion when he says he had an accident, but the bed is dry. Poor baby. Who allowed me to become a mother anyway?
1 comment:
Oh Giselle,
If it makes you feel any better I let Harper fall of the steps of a pool today and then had to fight the urge to laugh at the expression on her face when I (immediately) fished her out. Which I'm pretty sure means they are moving the location of the Mother of the Year Banquet so I can't even listen in through the window.
We all have those moments -- I've already had plenty as a mother and as a teacher as well. The grown up is not always right. Andrew is a great kid and it is largely due to your excellent parenting. (Even if you say he just comes by it naturally!) Andrew will not be permanently traumatized by this experience, and you shouldn't be either.
Thanks for being so honest when you feel like you've blundered. It helps me to know I'm not the only one who doesn't always do things perfectly! (But I think you actually come pretty close.)
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