A couple of evenings ago I was dragging my son through the nightly “it’s bedtime-ok-stall-Come on, it’s bedtime-play around-drag feet upsteps-roll around on the ground-Junior, now, it’s bedtime..” dance.
Before I go further, I should mention that Junior just turned four so the behavior just noted is completely expected.
Part of this nightly ritual is to ensure Junior goes to the bathroom so I can do my best to ensure his mom will not wear out the Maytag’s washing his pee-soaked pajamas and bed clothes as well as do whatever I can to help her retain her sanity in this area. I know…I’m a giver.
Anyway, on this particular evening, I was in our bedroom and mentioned to Junior that he must go to the bathroom before he goes up to bed. Junior, who was already in the master bath after getting dressed for bed, replied he’d already gone.
“Daaaad, I did go toda bafroom.”
“You went to the bathroom?” said Dad.
“Yes,” said son with empathic tone.
“When?” inquired skeptical, yet hopeful Dad.
“Daaaad, I went toda bafroom yesterday,” said even more emphatic son.
I stopped for a minute to regain composure before turning around to face the doors to the master bath and then boldy plowed forward.
“Well, Junior, you have to go again now before you go to bed.”
“Daaad, I have to go toda bafroom?”
“This is ridiculous.”
Ahhh, the harsh demands a parent places on such a young child.
One second please…I can hear CPS at the door now.