Monday, April 12, 2010

You wipe your own butt, don't you? | Monday Memories | Halifax, NS

The following story happened last year when my cousin was babysitting her sister's children.  The youngest was four years old at the time.  I like to call her Mini-Me -- because I like to believe I was that cute when I was her age; and because I secretly like to tease Mini-Me's mom, who I'm sure would rather believe Mini-Me actually looks like her.  Since I'm the storyteller, I get to name her whatever I like...

Ahhhhhh, five days in Jamaica in April, doesn't it sound lovely?
I'm sure it was, but I bet it wasn't as much fun as the five days babysitting the kids while the folks were away on vaycay (yeah, it was a "business" trip.  In Jamaica.  Sure).  Of course, "fun" is a relative word considering there was vomiting and diarrhea involved in the babysitting.
The kids' Aunt had to deal with the vomiting and diarrhea, I had none of that.  Not even any poop.  Well... there was poop conversation.
Day 3, maybe Day 4
Mini-Me's been sick, she's the 2nd of the kids to be sick this week.  The Aunt gives her some Tylenol before bed (and to be honest, I wasn't in charge of the meds, it was some sort of sick children's liquid something or other).  Whatever it was, it perked her right up.
8pm, showers, pj's, prayers, bed, it's all good.   The kids' Mom calls and talks to The Aunt about the day and I'm on my way out to the door to head home for the night when I hear a little voice from upstairs.  It's Mini-Me, she needs to pee.  Sure, no problem, let's go.  She hops up on the throne and I attempt to give her some privacy and turn to leave the room.  
Mini-Me - Where are you rushing off to?
Me - Um, well I have to go home soon.
M-M - Why?
Me- It's, um, almost my bedtime.
M-M - What time is it, is it 9 o'clock yet?
Me - No, not yet.
M-M - Then you don't have to go home.
Me- I do, it's late
M-M - no!  After the kids go to bed, that's when the parents do the dishwasher, and the vacuuming, and the cleaning, and the singing (I swear she said singing!)
At this point, I give up... I'm not getting out of there any time soon.  I settle in and have a seat on the kids' stepstool.  Mini-Me eyes the lysol.
M-M - what's that?
Me - Lysol
M-M - No, I mean, what's the chemicals?
Me - Chemicals?  You're 4, how do you know chemicals?  You're pretty smart, eh?
M-M - (matter of factly) Uh-huh
Then she spelled her name and her brother's name, then my name.  More random conversation, then she talked about how her feet were going to sleep (um, yeah, you've been there quite awhile now).   There didn't seem to be any action going on except the conversation so I finally asked her if she was pooping. No, I'm just peeing.  Okay then.
A few minutes and more random conversation later, I hear some tooting.  Again, matter of factly... Now I'm pooping.
Once she's done, she reminds me that she's not allowed to wipe her bum yet, someone has to do it for her. Uh-oh.  Where's The Aunt when you need her?  HA!  Luckily, she's off the phone and coming up the stairs.
Me - why don't we let The Aunt wipe your bum?
M-M - why can't you do it?
Me - The Aunt should do it
M-M - But why can't you do it?
Me - um, The Aunt has more practice
M-M - you wipe your own butt, don't you?
I don't think I stopped giggling long enough to answer this one.  In all fairness... if The Aunt hadn't been around, I would've done what needed to be done.  But there she was.  And she does have more practice than I do.  Even though I do wipe my own butt.

email:  karenk{at}


  1. perhaps you should have stepped up, so somewhere down the road if your butt needs wiping..... :) love smh

  2. Ha! love it! The hardest part isn't busting out laughing right in front of them!