I’m spending a few days this week helping a friend out by looking after her three year old while her regular caretaker is in the hospital. It’s been quite awhile since I’ve gotten up and left the house before seven, but I have to admit, I actually missed being up and around during the early hours.
My new little charge this week is a sweet blonde wisp of a girl, a lover of everything Disney princess-y, and a generally agreeable child. She tried to offer her toys to my son, but quickly took them back when she realized that his idea of “playing” is to put everything in his mouth. He sucked half the glitter off of Snow White’s skirt before she managed to retrieve the poor sleepy wench.
Although she is an only child, she is also soon to be a big sister, and she did very well in the roles of spoon feeder and diaper disposer, and was only a little put out at having to play quietly each time the baby had to be rocked to sleep.
Looking back on the day, I think she taught me more today than I taught her. I learned that the proper names for Beauty and the Beast, Toy Story 3 and The Little Mermaid are Beet, Buzz, and Ah-Ah-Ahhhh, respectively. I also learned that when my son is able to walk, I will be enjoying an audience when I poop.
I’ve been pooping alone for many years, and it has gone splendidly, until today when I was informed that she was not leaving the room so I could do my business, that I needed her to stay.
“Why?” I inquired.
“So I can wipe,” she answered earnestly.
“Errr,” I wondered. “I hope she’s not disappointed that I’m able to do that myself.”
When it came time to take care of that task, she was quite upset that I did not need assistance, and stated several times that if I would just wait, her mommy would do it.
That made me think back to the time my new husband took my five-year-old nephew to the restroom at Mazzio’s Pizza once. My nephew took a long time to do his business, and when my husband went in to check on him, my nephew had assumed the position. My husband was understandably taken aback when confronted with the poo-smeared heiney, because he assumed (correctly) that five year olds can wipe themselves.
But my nephew insisted that his mom always wiped his butt, and that he didn’t know how. So, my husband helped him out, albeit reluctantly, and they came back to the table.
There, my nephew told us what happened, and then gleefully informed my husband that he knew how to properly clean his own rear, and just wanted to see if he could get him to do it.
Conniving little brat, don’t ya think? I am indeed so very proud.
I guess this illustrates a major difference between girls and boys. My friend’s precious daughter wanted to be helpful to me, even in the bathroom, while my nephew wanted to see how long he could get away with having someone else do the “dirty work!”