We have been working on potty training the twins for a couple of weeks now. Kate has been doing best at it, though she has had a few ... incidents. The most recent one happened on Thanksgiving. On me.
We were over at the Walkers' house and I was holding Kate in my lap on the sofa. We were having a wonderful father-daughter bonding moment. We were discussing the responsibilities and ramifications of being a princess, when she looked at me and said, "Daddy, I need to go potty." I smiled, pleased that she alerted me.
"OK, Kate. Let's take you to -" Mid-sentence, I felt hot wetness on my lap. I jumped up, holding Kate out at a distance, and ran us both to the bathroom.
The photo above shows me standing by the bathroom, complete with Kate-pee-stained shirt. My pleasant smile conceals a seething rage. See Kate standing there, looking at her handy work?
In this photo I am giving Kate a blistering tongue-lashing. I am informing her that under no circumstances is it appropriate for a child to urinate on her father. See how she is standing with her feet spread? Her pee-soaked pants can't be too comfortable. Her expression is part chagrined smile, and part attempt at puppy-eyes to forestall my wrath.
I had to change my shirt, of course. There were few options left open to me, since we were at my inlaws. I went ahead and put on my mother-in-law's blouse. I felt that the floral pattern and pink leaves really complimented my skin.
We have always been good about packing a spare set of clothing for our kids - for instances just like this. I think from here on I will do the same for myself.
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