That’s right. The “enemy” as it were is any and all things that I did not expect to give me such a problem. Of course they're things that aren’t really that harmful, hence the awesome goomba icon, not something really scary like Freddy Krueger or Carrot Top. Just things that (probably because I’m a nanny) have become an issue for me and I probably thought I would not have to deal with them until I had children of my own. Like this entries enemy…
Look at it! It looks so cute, and pink, and friendly looking. WRONG! Who would have thought this tiny €3.50 piece of plastic would be the cause of so much stress in this house. And we try to make it easier. There are actually four of these things strategically placed around the house (and mine) so as to create the optimal outlet for Fien’s…well outlet. And, when she goes on it, she gets a treat, a high five, and a Libby/Lily exclusive “Pound-It.” And, when she starts going often enough, she gets BIG GIRL DORA UNDERWEAR! But until then, she is stuck in training pull-ups which are so much harder to change…things…tend to…fall out…*shudder.* But does this give the little princess the motivation to sit on her throne? Oh no. Of course not. Except…and of course there’s always an exception…
-In the middle of a walk.
-In the middle of a bath.
-Right after she gets a clean diaper.
-When we can’t find the potty.
-When Fien is covered in paint and only hopes of movement from the table involves Libby holding her at arms length begging her not to touch anything.
-When Libby is also using the bathroom.
-When Libby is in the middle of almost burning something on the stove.
At those times, Fien is perfectly willing to let me know that the time for the potty has come, and her pants are most likely already around her ankles, countdown commencing, and nothing stopping me from having to mop up a very disgusting floor but some really good instincts and the sheer grace of God.
I know all parents have gone through this. But honestly, I didn’t even factor this into any sort of Nanny duties. Ever. If it were up to me, she’d be in diapers until next October. But it’s not, and she’s not, so I guess I must deal.
Word of the day: potje – little potty