Cooper was the first one up this morning. I can tell I'm a mom when I know who is coming down the hall before I even open my eyes. I love that my kids come to kiss us awake before they decide they are ready for their pre-breakfast, Mom-is-reading-her-scriptures, cartoon time. Just before we scooped him into bed with us, he reminded us that he still needed to use the bathroom. (Have you noticed that kids always prefer the parental bathroom? I know we drove our Mom crazy showering in hers all the time.) While he was padding around the bed, I reminded Mark of what had happened the night before:
Cooper also tends to remember that he needs to use the bathroom during dinner. We had excused him, and he came back to the table screaming in pain that his fingers hurt. I checked out his hands. In between his fingers was still a thick, slimy layer of liquid soap. Blisters were bubbling up along with the suds. He had been complaining that his fingers were "scraped" for a few days, and I couldn't figure out why they were so red. Now I knew, he hadn't been rinsing off the soap good enough, actually a pretty difficult task for a 4 year old when you still think you need a whole pumpfull of soap (enough to fill the whole sink with suds). So, I rinsed him good, he stopped crying, and I pulled out the bar soap for him instead, to use next time.
But, we hadn't showed him where the bar soap was in our bathroom, and he would probably forget anyway. So, this morning, I mentioned this quickly to Mark, who called out, "Don't forget to use the right soap!"
We listen carefully. Cooper immediately pumps a big purple splotch into his dry hand.
a. Not the right soap.
b. His hands weren't even wet yet.
c. He hadn't used the bathroom. This proved to be the immediate problem.
Mark instructs him as follows, our obedient child.
"No, Coop, not that one. Yeah, the blue one. But first you have to use the potty. Wait, you have to rinse that one off first."
I picture the water running and the boy dancing desperately, and elbow my husband.
"No, just...USE THE POTTY! USETHEPOTTTTTTY! Don't rinse off the soap yet!"
We sigh with relief as he makes it to the toilet. We both call out, "Flush!"
Cooper heads dutifully back to the sink. Mark climbs dutifully out of bed, rinses out the purple suds, and shows Cooper the bar soap.
Except maybe the purple slime on my toilet handle, but I'll take it.