Tuesday, April 24, 2012

The Bum-Washing Button

Small T-Bone is struggling with life a little. I'm writing this as I wait for him to pop out of his room again with another crazy request. He's just begging to get busted at the minute. He's having a three-year-old crisis, and showing his dissatisfaction with life through baby voices, random naughty attacks, and a good line in pants-wetting.  If I had the head-space I would think it through, like I did when his sister was this age. But George has recently begun screeching like a baboon every time I move more than a metre away from her, the washing pile teeters higher than my head and my back continues to give me the gift of daily pain.

I feel bad for my darling middle child. I know he needs more of everything. Attention, outdoor playtime, discipline, cuddles. But his decrepit ageing parents are time-poor and very, very tired.


At Nanna's today, he sat on the toilet describing the process of his poo to me while I gazed in the mirror at my grey hairs. 'Now wash my bum with water!' he told me after a little while.   Jesus, I thought. Have we come to this?

'I am not washing your bum with water, Teddy' I told him firmly. 'That's what the bath is for.'

'No,  the button,' he said. 'Press the bum-washing button!'

Ah. I pressed the flush and watched Ted push his little bottom down into the toilet with delight. We have a waterless composting toilet at our place. So he's come to his own conclusion about all these crazy flushing toilets he keeps finding.

God bless him. Especially when he's asleep.


  1. Bless him! That's what I love about uninhibited little minds, they reimagine the mundane as something extraordinary. I am the eldest of three and my middle brother, who was roughly sandwiched between two attention-seekers, is definitely the sweetest and gentlest of the three. Bx

    1. Thanks Bex. I really needed to hear that today. xx

  2. I know a certain someone who was also obsessed about toilets that "watered" your bum for the same composting waterless toilet at home reason! Such a novelty!

  3. Our middle three year old has had her struggles of late too... the school run is the hardest bit. Her play and day is interrupted and at three o'clock in the afternoon she is tired and getting hungry. At the school as we linger waiting for the eldest boy the other parents gush over her little brother exclaiming how cute and gorgeous he is, yarda yarda, completely ignoring her. It's a yucky situation for her. Awful. My heart aches for her. Like her baby brother cares for the attention. I try my best to include her in the conversations, to give her attention as we wait, hold her hand and give it a big loving squeeze... but it almost always ends in a massive tantrum. Thus alienating the other children and parents further.
    ... she will emerge through the other side. I know it. She is getting there. But sometime it just sucks for everyone.

  4. Thanks Sal. Needed that! It's tough trying to meet all their needs - especially when what they need os all of you, all the time...

  5. Hilarious! I remember when I was his age and being amazed with everything. What started as a curiousity of poo turned into a love of toilet humour!


Thanks for talking to me. I don't got cooties. Oh, except for when I got cooties.