Sometimes any Decision is Just to Hard

I was upstairs putting away the 4,321st article of clothing that day, Baby is sleeping, Big Sister is happily playing in the living room.  Suddenly I hear tears, not just little tears, the kind of tears that signify something is terribly terribly wrong.  But I didn’t hear that tell tale scream, why didn’t I hear the scream?  Is the fan too loud?  Did she go outside alone without me knowing?  I sprint full speed down the stairs, scoop up my sobbing little person and hold her tight.

Mom:  What hurts honey?

Big Sister:  wail… .sniff sniff… wail my belly.

Mom:  Did you hit it on something?

Big Sister: (with a look that says.. how do you hit your belly on something, seriously mom) no.

Mom: Do you have to go poop (we have potty issues, we ask this question a lot)

Big Sister: wail, sob, sniff sniff, wail (I must be getting closer)  no.

Mom:  They why do you think you belly hurts?

Shannie: pout I have to go pee.

Mom: well then go pee, there’s no one in the bathroom.

Shannie:  giant, make your heart stop wail…  (Wait for the punchline… it’s so good)  I don’t know which bathroom to use!!!!

It’s at this point that she falls on the floor, face first and cries her little eyes out.  There was no consoling (because I was uncontrollably laughing), there was no reasoning, (her bathroom probably doesn’t have the toilet flushed, the downstairs bathroom is to close to the basement stairs, which is suddenly scary, and my bathroom is to far awaaaaayyyyyy)

Yes really, I couldn’t make this stuff up.

So I sat, and watch my poor child struggle with the most important decision of her day.  I remind myself that sometimes I have had just a little to much chocolate/coffee/activity/children… and I have a face plant meltdown on the floor too.  Mine usually starts with a mad 8 year old who won’t practice piano, or a 5 year old who won’t leave my side even to use the bathroom.  So I gave her some space, that’s what I would have wanted, and I waited… I figured sooner or later the urgency of the potty would supersede the location.

It did, a long time later.  Her sobs slowed down, she picked herself up off the floor, and said “I hate it when I can’t stop crying.”  as she wiped her little tears and tried to put on a happy face.  I wanted to say “get used to it kid.”  Instead I gave her a little hug (I won’t lie I laughed) and helped her to the potty.

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