I truly do live in the Land of Chaos. Need a good laugh at my expense?
Riley must have been the easiest kid on the planet to potty train. I didn’t have to actually “train” him – I just put underwear on him and he used the potty. Perhaps it was my consolation prize for potty training the first three. Or maybe it’s because thinks he’s capable of doing everything and anything his siblings can do. Either way, he traded his diapers for visits to every public restroom in New England. Sometimes I feel like a contestant on Amazing Race – Restroom Edition. So I was a little surprised when he had an accident the other day. Not just an “oh well, I wet my underpants” kind of accident. But one of those dreaded accidents where you must decide if you like the clothes enough to clean them or if you are better off tossing them in the trash and pretending it never happened.
Mr. Independent didn’t think he needed any help with his situation. But he’s two years old. The only thing he knows to do with toilet paper is to unroll it all over the house or attempt to flush an entire roll intact. Contrary to his beliefs, he really does need assistance in the bathroom. But Mr. Independent was totally unfazed by what he had going on. He just pulled off those dirty pants and hopped onto the potty to finish his deed.
Being two years old does not make you an excellent dirty pants-remover. That is a job for us more experienced pants-removers. But it’s really no big deal if you don’t mind having poopy all over your leg, and apparently he does not mind. He never even noticed. But WAIT!! Activate emergency sirens!! We have a huge problem! “There’s POO POO on the floor!! Wook-it!!” (Wook-it translates to “look at it”.) “Mommy wook-it! There’s poop on the floor!” He was so upset you would have thought the house had burned to the ground. Lesson for the day: poop all over your leg is fine; poop on the floor is life shattering. I had assumed that both scenarios are bad, but what do I know? The clean-up crew (me) responded quickly to the hazmat spill on the floor and began cleaning off his legs so he could relax on the potty.
Now somehow Mr. Independent managed to take off his dirty clothes and hoist his little butt onto the toilet while carrying his treasures with him. Yes, like any respectable king, he must take his treasures with him to the throne. His treasures must be protected from thieves (Noah) at all times. A treasure is any item Riley deems valuable at the moment. It could be a matchbox car or other toy, a glove, the remote control, his blanket, a sippy cup, a cookie cutter, or even an empty Ziploc bag. Gloves and blankets are the most valuable treasures in the Kingdom of Riley – he prefers soft and fuzzy ones. Thankfully, this trip to the bathroom did not involve a soft, snuggly glove or his most special blanket he sleeps with. This time Riley took a toy canteen and his sippy cup of chocolate milk. Eww. I’m still not sure how he managed to get onto the potty holding both of those treasures, and I’m pretty sure I don’t really want the answer to that question.
While Riley finished his potty business, I worked to clean the poopy from his legs. I wasn’t thrilled, but I was almost done. I still hadn’t managed to get the dirty clothes off the floor, but a responsible mom would clean off the kid first, right? Just as I finished cleaning off his legs, I heard the dreaded SPLASH! The sippy cup full of chocolate milk was swimming in the toilet pool with all the other deposits he had made. Ahhh! Since I couldn’t just flush the cup away, my only choice was to rescue it. And the rescue mission needed to happen immediately before he could make another deposit that would land on top of it. If I had taken a moment to think about my rescue plan, I would have likely changed course and packed up and moved out of the house to avoid dealing with it. But being a mom, I persevered and reached my hand in to grab out the floating cup and toss it in the sink. With my mission completed, I could wash my hands. Whew! Almost done…
Uh, not quite. He’s two. He doesn’t play fair. Now that his sippy cup had gone swimming in the pond, he decided that his bathroom time was over. It was time for the wiping crew to finish the job so he can move on. I was thrilled because I was one step closer to closing the bathroom door and forgetting this little episode had ever happened. Wipe, check. Help him down from the potty, check. (There’s a mysterious phenomena that little kids can get onto the potty alone, or down from the potty alone, but never both in the same visit.) As soon as his little feet hit the ground, he lunged ahead to wash his hands. Good boy! Well, that’s what I would have said had he not put his foot directly onto the pile of yuck in his underwear on the floor. Not sure whether to laugh or cry, I looked around for a hidden camera. Maybe I’m being Punk’d by a two year-old, I thought. I must really love him because I didn’t put him up for adoption at that point. Instead, I called back the hazmat crew (me) and cleaned up the rest of the mess.
Miraculously, Riley did not make another mess of any kind in the few minutes it took to finish cleaning up. Two questions kept swirling around in my head after I walked out of the bathroom looking like I had just battled a dragon. 1) How does my kid not mind stepping in poop? And 2) why doesn’t this ever happen when Dad is on duty? Riley was kind and waited a full 2.5 hours before he decided to baste my sofa in a marinade of dry rice and barbeque sauce. And if you are wondering about that sippy cup – it is now retired and residing in a nice landfill nearby.