I do what they do!

Superbowl Sunday, 2010. Buffalo Chicken dip is baking away for the party we will be attending, good friends have stopped by to say hello, and Hannah is upstairs in her room for "quiet time" which so far, has been less than quiet. The pitter patter of little feet coming down the stairs are heard. Hannah is calling for V & S. As she rounds the corner on the landing, we see she is completely, 100% nekkid. After hugs hello, I take her upstairs to get re-dressed.

We enter her room, clean before quiet time, but now a jumble of blankets, babies, books, and puzzle pieces. Hannah's pajamas and pull-up are nowhere to be found. I ask my child, "Hannah, where are your clothes? Will you please get them for mommy?" Hannah scampers out of her room and into the hallway, seemingly on her way to the bathroom. However, she does not hang a left into our smallish, unheated bathroom. Instead, she drops down onto her (nekkid) belly and crawls under the baby gate we keep about a foot off the floor in the door jam of our guest room. This room, when not inhabited by guests, is the cats' room. Their litter boxes and food are kept in this Angus-proofed space. The baby gate is up off the floor to accommodate our older, slightly less than limber cat, Buddy, who prefers to go under things instead of jumping over them.

Hannah walks over to the litter boxes, bends down and is slightly hidden by the bed. She comes back to the doorway with her pj's and pull-up, drops to the floor and crawls back to the hallway. I sternly ask, "Hannah, why were your clothes by the litter boxes? Were you playing in them again? I've told you that they are not toys, they are yucky. They are the cats' bathroom." Hannah shrugs and tells me, "I don't know."

Fast forward two hours when we are celebrating the Superbowl with food, drink, and more conversation than the die-hard football fans appreciate. Hannah runs to me and announces, "I have to potty!"

Being the good mom I am, I immediately set down my plate of goodness and carbs, take a quick drink of my Bells Coffee Stout, grab her hand and we race off to the bathroom. Hannah does her business and as I'm praising her for peeing in the pot, I am also helping her wipe. While I'm ensuring her tush dryness, I notice some strange looking dirt in her butt crack. I look a bit closer. Yes, it's kinda gross, but it's my job. My job, along with feeding, clothing, loving, supplying fruit snacks, and reading bedtime stories to her also includes hygiene of the nether regions. Until she can care for her own business, it's just part of my job description.

Anyways, I'm looking closer at the dirt in her crack and notice, it looks a lot like cat litter. And it all comes together. I begin to laugh. And laugh. And laugh. I can barely speak, but do manage to ask, "Hannah? Did you go potty in the cats' litter boxes?" And my sweet child replies, "Yes! Yes, Mommy! I did! I did! I do what they do!"