This post is brought to you by More Alike Than Different, a complete figment of my imagination based on some interesting Facebook statuses that highlight how people with Down syndrome and those without are more alike than different; hence the name.
Everybody knows toddlers be crazy. Mariana is no exception. Usually, after everyone has gone to school and Mae has finished up her breakfast and been dressed, I can go about my business for a few minutes before she does some death-defying action that requires my attention. Most of that time on a Tuesday would be spent loading up the diaper bag and the car to get set for therapy. Today I needed to use the bathroom.
Now moms know that when the toddler is the only one in the house you do not shut the door all the way lest that fool-child tries to drown himself in the puddle near the fridge left by the preschooler who needed a drink just as he was supposed to get in the car to go to school. The door was left cracked, which in Toddler World is as good as an engraved invitation to come inspect your business. Sure enough, Mae came bursting in and scooted her cute little self over to me where she proceeded to stand up and attempt to push me off the toilet. From her insistent finger pointing, pigtailed head shaking and forceful babble I surmised she wanted to use the potty. Now, as a firm believer in making hay while the sun shines, I normally would stop the world to take advantage of this little burst of interest in using the facilities. Today, however, I was not so inclined and thus told her sweetly, "Mama's turn."
This, of course, was the same as withholding food and drink, and so was met with the same kind of protest. Sweet Miss hit me and said, "Nooo-nooo!" and once again tried to push me. When that was ineffective, she pulled the hand towel down and grunted a nasty little toddler-expletive. She stared at me with that side-eye look and threw herself onto the ground while telling me off. This, I can only imagine, was an attempt to get me to be so disgusted that she was lying on a bathroom floor that I would jump up in haste and tend to her very urgent needs. Perhaps she has learned something in the public restrooms after all. Unfortunately, while I wouldn't call my bathrooms "sparkling clean", they are nowhere near the scary germfest that public restrooms are, and at least the germs present are all ours.
I proceeded to finish up, which includes closing the lid now that someone in the house thinks the toilet doubles as a terrific water table. Are you surprised that Sass took this personally and grabbed my pant legs and shook them with all her might? I washed my hands, picked up the towel and turned off the light turning my back to leave. At this point she followed me, so I shut the door as a civilized person living with a toddler might. Luckily the cat passed by, which was taken as an invitation to act out another episode of the tele-novella, "Toddler and Cat - A Story of Unrequited Love"
Now well into my fifth experience of parenting a toddler, I can with some certitude say, yep, way more alike than different. Le sigh.
:) amen sista!
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