A Pause

It's 5:45 p.m., that odd time of day when sometimes we pause. My husband's gone to a meeting--he's on a Rescue Mission board and he won't be home until after the kids' bedtime. The boys are in the backyard wandering around with sticks and having an imaginary adventure. The sun shines, still and it's warm. I think it reached 80 degrees today, but our backyard always has a nice breeze and shade in the afternoons.

Babygirl was laying on the floor, watching Teletubbies. Lately, she has to have all the "bee-bees" (the blankets) on her at once. That means three afghans and three fuzzy pink blankets. But her bladder distracted her and she wanted to sit on the "pobby" (the potty), so she insisted that I strip her clothes off (which reminds me of George Costanza--fans of Seinfeld know what I'm talking about). Today, she shocked me--and herself--by managing to make her first "deposit" (if you know what I mean) in her little potty. We greeted it with great acclaim and carried it with deep respect and love to the regular toilet where we bid it adieu. "Bye-bye poopy!"

When my twins were her age and older, they always denied that they had a dirty diaper. They had no interest in using the toilet--despite our repeated viewings of "It's Potty Time!", a hilarious video which includes the song we still sing today (and by "we", I mean my husband and me): "He is a super duper pooper! He can potty with the best! No more diapers to get in his way! We are very impressed!"

Anyway.

Only two hours until bedtime and then the debate: Do laundry? Straighten up the house? Vacuum? Work on VBS project for church? Exercise? Or just sprawl in the recliner and watch Fear Factor and eat fat-free Kettle Korn?