Believe that life with a two-year-old is this crazy.
There aren’t any. There is no such thing as privacy anymore. Any time you thought you could still set aside for yourself is not for you at all.
Today’s True Story
I was sitting on the toilet this morning, thinking I could pee quickly while Angel Baby was absorbed in her toys in the next room. As soon as the sound of my urine hitting the toilet water reached her ears, she came running on her little legs with her doorstop feet thumping across the hardwood floors. She had a huge grin and started clapping for me (this is what we do when we hear her urine hitting the toilet, but potty training stories are for another post).
Yes, my audience comes complete with applause.
Then she oh-so-helpfully ripped a few squares off of the roll of toilet paper, weaseled her way past me into the corner, and shoved the shredded paper down between my butt and the back of the toilet seat. While my dear angel did not in fact “wipe” me, it was still a rather arresting sensation.
As best as I could, I dragged her little self from behind me and tried to explain, while finally wiping myself, that a child needn’t wipe anyone but herself. I told her I appreciated the gesture, the desire to be helpful and to mimic Mommy, but it was unnecessary and unsanitary.
I didn’t get through to her. I stood to flush and she began yanking my pants up for me.