Somedays I truly believe that the three year old is out to get me. Now I have the proof in the form of pee.
Last Wednesday we had a group of friends over. The kids were all playing like the perfect angels that we know they aren’t and their mom and myself were sitting at the table working on a project. That’s when the three year old made her move. She came running up to me to tell me that she had to potty.
“Go! Go!” I told her as I shoo’d her into the bathroom, following only about 10 steps behind. Let me just to take a break here to say that when you’re a parent with a newly potty trained child, you expect messes. They just become part of the daily routine. But you never expect for your children to use them as weapons against you.
So I went dashing into the bathroom, trying to get there in time to help but give her enough leeway to be self motivated to make it. Seconds after I rounded the corner into the bathroom I was met with a deer in the headlights look and before I could make any computations in my head as to the cause of her look of distress, it happened.
As if it was in slow motion the right leg slipped, sending my body slowly drifting up towards heaven, and then with a sudden crash back down to earth and landing in the giant puddle of pee. Yes folks, I slipped on pee and busted. But it gets better. I landed on my hip with such force that I had no other choice but to roll forward, into the gigantic puddle even more.
So there I was, frolicking in a puddle of pee while the three year old stared at me in mild amusement and my friend sat unknowing but dry in her pants at my kitchen table, just waiting for me to return.
I had no choice but to change my clothes and at that point, my new clothing choice was clear. I didn’t care who was at my house, I just rolled in a puddle of pee and all I wanted was my pajamas. Once quick sponge bath for each of us, new yoga pants and a tshirt for me along with new bottoms for the 3 year old and we were ready to conquer the world again.
Except then my knee started hurting and later that night my hip. By the second day my back joined in the aching chorus as a constant reminder of the day that the three year old defeated me with her superpower; peeing on the floors.