You know that scene in Little Rascals where all the rascals are wrangling a fire hose? Here is a link to the exact part that is relevant to today’s topic…
Mornings are tough at our house. We’ve got a hungry toddler, two pets, two adults that are questionably functional before 9 am, and lots of of tasks that have to be done before we all scurry off to our respective jobs and obligations. It’s hardest on us parents. Let’s be honest, every parent knows and dreads morning time, at least some days.
This morning was no exception – especially since Ashley Face had to get up and leave for work early, before Monster and I were even awake. She kissed me goodbye and in my half asleep state I was thankful that we, luckily, have an amazing son.
You see, Monster is amazing in the morning. He usually wakes up, takes off his pajamas and pull-up, stops in our room to see if we are up yet, and even goes downstairs and gets toys to entertain himself. He’s wonderful and patient – sitting through us parents showering, helping out by feeding the animals, and brushing his teeth without prompt.
With that being the routine, I knew a solo daddy morning would be easy. It’s been done countless times before without a hitch and today was shaping up to be no different.
But then Monster chose a very interesting thing to do this morning. He got up as usual, checked on me as usual, then went into his room and began stepping out of his pajamas. He called excitedly back into my room about how his pull-up was dry. I responded in turn with congratulations, albeit a bit groggy.
But then congratulations turned to confusion when I heard it. The pitter-patter of liquid droplets on his wood floor.
My mind first jumped through a few options. Was it a water bottle? No… I didn’t give him one last night. Is it the humidifier? No, doesn’t sound right. That would be more like dumping a bucket of water on the floor. Hmm… it sounds like… what is it…
Then it dawned on me:
The sound of a high pressure hose turning on.
It’s a new house, but I didn’t see any plumbing in his room when we toured the place. There isn’t any plumbing on the whole floor. To my knowledge, in his room, there was only one thing that could cause that sound. The sound of a four year old’s full bladder being instantly and powerfully emptied, moments after removing the pull up that would have contained the urine. And it was at this moment that I made a critical, and tactical error: I asked what he was doing.
Now, if you are four years old, and you are suddenly emptying your extremely full bladder onto the floor of your room, you know that this morning is hard. When your dad calls for you, you of course want to run to him and answer.
That’s right, You want to run to Dad and answer. Forgetting that you are mid-stream – a high pressure stream that can’t be stopped. Things have been set into motion that cannot be stopped.
A veritable torrent of urine, sprayed in a helicopter arc, doused the entirety of his room, the hallway in-between our rooms, and both doors. Not to mention his sheets, dresser, clothing on the floor, and his body.
The irony of this morning, to me, is that we have been desperately working with Monster to stop wetting the bed at night. In his excitement over a clean and dry pull-up in the morning, Monster lost control over his bladder at the most inopportune time.
No caffeine for me, folks. I am totally and completely awake now. Re-watch that little rascals clip I linked above. Giggle at it. If you have the day off, and if you don’t have kids, go back to bed and enjoy a peaceful, relaxing, urine-less morning.