Poddytime with Clare
Observing Clare is a pastime that I cannot love more. She is at the funniest age right now, especially if you are paying attention. Just now she ran into the bathroom and said “I ha go pee now.”
“You do?” I say half question, half recognizing this as protocol.
“Yeah, I ha go pee now.”
“Do you need help? Do you need me to get your pants off?”
“I get pants off by m-self.” And she does.
“But help wi diaper.” She runs over to stand before me, throws her legs into straddle position, and holds her arms out around her. She waits. I take the diaper off and she runs back to the toilet.
“Do you need help on?”
“Yeah, I nee help on.” She backs up to it, stretches her arms high in the air and waits. I put her on, the Dora seat in place already. She settles in, folds her hands and looks around. The next few minutes are spent positioning the toilet paper dispenser meticulously next to her, opening the drawer nearby and rifling through the contents. She pulls out a number of things including a bottle of lotion, a container of ?, and a box of band aids. The band aids hold her attention for the longest. She says something and I turn back.
“What do you need?”
“I pu thee back…” she stumbles through the words as the box and its gold are balancing on her hands and she is slowly losing her grip on all of it. The box falls to the floor.
“Ban-ay fall on floor.” She looks down and then looks at me. I pick up the box and hold it while she puts them back. “Pu back ban-ai, Mommy, put back.” She keeps one and starts opening it. The procedure goes on. She can’t open it: “No open, Mommy. No open.” I open it . She tries to put it on her toe. “I nee hep! I nee hep, Mommy!” I put the band aid on her big toe, the body part of choice lately. I return to the kitchen for the 12th time. She sits quietly with her hands in her lap again. She has, in the midst of this, “wiped” at least twice with more toilet paper than Sophie and I go through in a day.
“Only one more time with the toilet paper, Clare, and just a little bit.” A big grin is returned with a squeeze of the shoulders.
“One more time?!” She pauses. “Jus a yittle bit, jus a yittle bit…” When I look over again she is repeating this, but now directed at me, “Jus a yittle bit, Mommy!” and she holds a tiny piece of toilet paper that she proceeds to use..somehow. A few more minutes and she announces “I done! I done, Mommy.” I take her off and she throws the Dora seat to the ground and flushes with a flourish. Delighted with herself she runs out of the bathroom, through the kitchen and into the living room… “I nee some pants.. I nee some pants” with various forms of emphasis as the phrase is repeated. I sit down to continue what I was doing and wait for the next adventure.