I have a post I’ve been wanting to write for awhile now. I’ve been mentally composing it and editing it, but I’m afraid to actually write it down for fear that I’ll jinx myself. Silly me, I had planned to post it this week. But no, I have something much better to post about, lucky me. Because right now I’m doing midnight laundry. Again. Yes, it’s the second time this week.
Why am I doing laundry this late (ok so it isn’t really midnight, but it sure feels like it)? Trust me, it isn’t from some misplaced compulsion to maintain a completely empty laundry basket. I haven’t seen a fully empty laundry basket in a long time. And I already did laundry once today, so it’s silly to do it again, right? Not so much, unfortunately. Laundry at this hour means I have to do laundry.
I was upstairs with Mister Man helping him find something after bedtime and we walked out of my bedroom where I saw the wee ones’ bathroom door was closed and the light was on. I didn’t think I’d left it like that a minute earlier, so I turned the knob and jokingly asked, “Who’s in there now?”
That’s when I saw Little Miss sitting on the floor with her pajamas in a pile in front of her. She wasn’t fully awake, but she was working on it. As I stepped forward to see what the problem was, I felt something wet under my foot. My brain finally caught up to the rest of me, and I groaned. At least she’d made it into the bathroom and the tile floor, but the rug and her pjs (and socks she was wearing under her footie pjs for some reason) were soaked. I helped her into the shower and sighed.
Once she was back in bed, I picked up her dirty clothes and the now dirty bath towel and stuck them in the laundry. I shrugged and added the rest of the dirty laundry to fill the load before going back into her room to question her a little more. Slowly, slowly the story came out, as her personality is loathe to admit to anything she thinks might be doing something wrong, even when it isn’t anything that’s wrong or anything that’s her fault.
There was a reason she had her accident in front of the door rather than anywhere else. She’d walked into the bathroom and seen that the toilet paper roll was empty. Her six year old assumption was that you can’t go to the bathroom if there’s no toilet paper. She knew where we keep the extra toilet paper, so she walked to that cabinet in front of the door and opened it. When she couldn’t find any in there (the new giant pack was in the garage), she gave up.
Oh my poor peanut.
So let that be a warning to you. Always, always change the toilet paper. And yes, I’m talking to you. Trust me, you don’t want to walk into what I did tonight. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some laundry to go change.