The Voice From the Crib
Losing My Voice….
On Wednesday I was so outdone I couldn’t speak. ‘Z’ not his real name, asked me if he could go to the restroom. I was really excited. This little fellow is very close to three years old and just getting potty trained. Need I say more? Yes. Last week he wasn’t even asking to go to the restroom on his own and was having all kinds of accidents and through the grace of God and finally some serious tending to from his family, he came in on Monday asking every time he took a breath. Well here we were on Wednesday, everyone getting up from nap and Z. asking to go to the restroom. Usually I stand in the doorway and watch until I am needed, but since I was changing an infant and the restroom routines had been going so well, I said go ahead. What a mistake. The infant was not the dis-stink-tive (a word I coined for my daughters when there was a problem with odor) one, it was Z.
As soon as I stepped into the hallway my sense of smell was murdered by the foulest odor. Z. in a very helpful (only to himself) fashion had tried to clean his accident with an entire roll of my favorite color of pink tissue. To make a long story short, after washing the child, putting his clothes and shoes into the washer and spending the next twenty minutes (between running from center to restroom) turning an outhouse back into a very pretty pink, black, and white bathroom I walk into the center and Z. says “ I gotta go to bat’room”. Without a word I grab his hand and walk with him.