My Bucket Runneth Over

Speaking of running over, yesterday I was out shopping with Loic & Alastair in tow and it got to be lunchtime, so we stopped for a bite to eat. Loic, who has been doing unbelievably well with his independent toileting needs since deciding he was done with diapers a few weeks back, says rather urgently, "I need to go to the bathroom!" So we quickly run to the back of the restaurant into the bathroom and as he's whipping down his pants he said, "Uh oh, I got some pee on my pants!" He was pretty concerned and as I glanced down I said, "Well, how much pee?" He said, "About 2 pounds." I tried not to chuckle, seeing how upset he was, and said, "Oh, that's ok. That's not much," to which he replied, "Then it's FOUR pounds!"

But that has nothing to do with the "bucket" I referred to in the title of this post. THAT bucket is shown to the left.

Usually I like to write about things that make me laugh, and this really didn't (ok, maybe it did just a little), but I wanted to preserve it here. How sweet is this? Apparently it was "Appreciation Day" at school, and the assignment was to fill someone's bucket with words telling them what you appreciate about them. Bill & I were both touched that he made a bucket for the two of us. To think that someone not only likes my cooking, but thinks it's "the best" is really something. Gives me the confidence I need heading into creating Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow. I only hope I have a little more to offer than just my culinary skills. Yikes, I can see my headstone now...

Anyway, this (and every) Thanksgiving my bucket runneth over. I have much to be thankful for, and think we should all start celebrating "Appreciation Day" every day. If you like someone's cooking, tell them. Thanks for the reminder, my Loveabal Laurence.

Overheard from the Bathroom Stall

Before I had kids I used to giggle uncontrollably at the conversations I'd often hear in the public bathroom stalls next to me -- you know the ones between a parent and a newly potty training or trained child. Then, about 3 years ago, it was my turn with Laurence. Suddenly those conversations were no longer funny. Strangers now giggled at us. I was downright humiliated. But then along came Loic. I'm sure partly because he's my second child, perhaps second BOY, and even more so because he's, well, LOIC, but these conversations no longer phase me. They make me laugh. Besides, they give me material for this here blog. Loic being potty trained is very recent news in our house, and here's a couple of snippets of what's gone down in some local and not-so-local public stalls lately...

Loic: Is this the girl bathroom or the boy bathroom?

Me: It's the girl bathroom -- you're not ready to go in the boy bathroom by yourself.

Loic: Why?

Me: Because you still need some help. (Somewhat under my breath...shuddering) And I don't want you to touch....things.

Loic: Oh yeah...help me unbutton my pants, Mommo, I have to PEEEEEE!

Me: Right, well that's why we're here.

Loic: Hey, I hear someone coming! It must be a girl. She has to pee, too! Or maybe poop. Do you think she has to pee or poop?

Me: I don't know. It's none of my busin----DON'T TOUCH the toilet!

Loic: Why?

Me: Because it has germs. Try to touch as little as possible.

Loic: OK. Can I touch the wall?

Me: No.

Loic: Can I touch the floor?

Me: No.

Loic: Can I touch the door?

Me: No.

Loic: Can I touch that girl peeing?

Me: NO!

Loic: I pooped. (Singing now) Now you have to WIPE meeeee! Wait, Mommo! Don't touch the toilet paper! It has germs.

And so on. No, I don't make this stuff up. Those of you with kids can relate. Did you notice my name? Mommo. That's new news, too. I think it has a nice ring to it.