So, this morning I woke up to the sound of Choo-choo screaming my name. I run up there to find him stark naked, puddles of pee all over his sheet. His pee-soaked clothes and full diaper were on the floor.
Shocked doesn’t even begin to express my initial thoughts and feelings.
“What happened in here?” I asked, my voice a little louder than I wanted it to be. “Where are your clothes?”
“I take them off!” Choo-choo answered proudly. “They have pee on them.”
He was so happy with himself for having helped me. Of course, help is so not the word I would use to describe this situation. It was just so clear from my son that this is what he believed it to be.
I cautiously checked the diaper first, and thank God there wasn’t any poop in it. I really did not want to deal with that literal crap in addition to everything else. At least he’d put all his toys, stuffed animals, and whatnot into a pile before stripping, so those were (hopefully) urine-free.
Once he was all cleaned up, I realized that this situation wasn’t as bad as it could have been. It was, after all, just a little pee. Having an almost three year old, I’ve cleaned up more pee than I can count. It wasn’t the end of the world like it first felt. I was, and am, also crabby from my son waking me up several times in the middle of the night, keeping me from my so desired sleep. I chose not to take that out on him despite being mad at him for it.
I mean, it isn’t his fault he had bad dreams. I do feel ridiculous seeing the words that I am mad at my kid for something out of his control. He might have called out to me on purpose, but his intentions were not to make me angry. Realizing this at this moment is actually pretty freeing.
I have a feeling this is going to be a good day after all.