The following is an old trip down memory lane, originally posted on Sept. 5, 2008.
Sitting at the kitchen bench this morning, the LGBB was chatting to her Little People and making them take turns with each other (“No, iss not your turn, iss MY turn…” “No! Not MY turn, iss MY turn!” Geez, are they bossy… and slightly confused) while I was writing in her baby book for the first time in ages.
I was full of happy, recording some of the things she had done, when Lolly came up to me as I was taking a sip of tea and held out her curled fist. Wassat? she asked, curiosity in her voice. What’s what? I answered. And then I did a dumb thing. I held out my hand to receive what was in her little hand.
That’s when she unfurled her fist and let a little pebble drop out into my waiting palm. A strangely organic-looking pebble. Hmmm…. animal, vegetable or mineral? Oh. Actually, last night’s dinner, I think.
“Ummmm, darlin’…. that’s poo,” I said calmly, my mind ticking fast. She’s not become one of those kids who reaches in to her nappy and does a bit o’ painting has she? She’s such a neat little girl, that’s so unlike her. As I looked past her slightly worried and concerned upturned face, her eyes searching mine to see if this was a good, bad or indifferent interaction we were having, I caught sight of another larger “pebble” on the floorboards over where she’d been playing.
I rolled up my sleeves for a bout of impromptu cleaning, sighed and then carried her to the nearest bathroom. Poor little poppet was SO sure she’d done something wrong that I had to stifle a giggle as she lay there making the sweetest, most obviously embarrassed, distraction-tactic small talk, complete with little chuckles over garbled words and hands flying to her mouth in mock shock over whatever it was she was trying to relay. But I had to correct her when she said very clearly that she was silly. I explained what had happened and she listened intently as I let her know she had not done anything silly or wrong and that her nappy had, well, malfunctioned. Although I think I probably said it was her nappy that was the silly one, or something like that.
Best start setting to and clean her up, I thought, looking down at her still twittering away to herself (probably trying hard to imagine herself anywhere but here). I braced myself and began to delicately unwrap the present so kindly laid by the LGBB for me. But there was nothing. The nappy was empty. This was a case of *cue dramatic music and echoey microphone* Phantom Poo. I saw the track marks down both her legs, which promptly reminded me of Mr Hanky bouncing all over Kyle’s bathroom and leaving brown squelch marks wherever he lands as he sings merrily… but no more pebbles. Anywhere. It certainly was curious. For some reason, “On Top Of Spaghetti (all covered with cheese, I lost my poor meatball when somebody sneezed…”) started playing in my head. Those little pebbles couldn’t possibly have made such happy trails on their own, down her little legs and out the door. Could they? I was certain it must be at least meatball-sized, whatever I was looking for.
Before my brain could command control of my hands, I shook the pj’s I was holding at the exact split-second when my brain registered they were a tad heavier than they ought. Why? Why did I give her pants a flick, dear reader? Of course you know what happened, don’t you? The weightiness was all made perfectly clear as it flopped onto the floor at my feet.
I could have cried. But it was so funny that I almost whistled while I cleaned.
I am going mad. Can you tell?