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The bathroom is my refuge

January 19, 2010

Queenie has taken a liking to the bathroom. No, not in the potty training way, but in a “this is where I want to be alone, don’t talk to me” way. That is, unless the door handle gets stuck or she can’t find it anymore, THEN you can come rescue her long enough to see that she is okay and not drinking toilet water before she shuts the door in your face again. Oh yes, and she goes in without the lights on. And don’t you dare turn them on for her! Not even for her to find the door handle. NO! It is not your job to manage her refuge, it is your job to rescue her from the door handle fiasco before going on with your day and leaving her alone.

I have to admit it’s quite funny. We just had a whole episode (in which I was laughing into my sweater’s oversized turtle neck) where she got upset because I not only got her toothbrush ready with toothpaste on it even after she told me not to, but I had the audacity to start reading the wrong book out loud. When she heard me reading she opened the door, poked her head around the corner and said, “NO! No! Noba bu, no, no, no!” (No means no and bu is book. Don’t ask me what the rest specifically means other than the fact that it was the wrong book.) She crawled over, took the book away and went back into the bathroom.

I laughed quietly before asking her if I should read the book aloud.

Momos (balloons)!” she cried, cracking the door open. But we have three books with momos in them so we were back to square one. That is, until the door handle got stuck and I had to get my big belly up off the floor to rescue my daughter. She tried to take refuge again but I snatched her away. Her mama may be big, but she’s as quick as a cat!

There were tears, but then she saw her milk bottle, told me she had caca to be changed and layed down on the floor. Again, can’t help but laugh!

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