Thursday, September 4, 2008

That Depends...

The first time it happened we were in the bathroom stall at Target. Ne touche pas! I kept saying to Zoey, because for some reason if I tell her in French not to touch something I feel like less of a nag. Plus, there is always the possibility that someone will overhear me and think I’m French which is just pathetic of me, I know. Meanwhile Zoey is growing up ne touching pas and watching her cabeza and hearing me say nein instead of no because certain words just sound better in other languages. But that is not what happened in the bathroom stall at Tarjay. What happened is that I was going pee and trying to distract Zoey with squares of toilet paper so she wouldn’t touch the door, the walls, the floor, so that she wouldn’t open the feminine hygiene dispenser to play with the mice inside. Ciò disgusta! I was saying when out of nowhere her tiny hand reached down with some toilet paper to wipe my влагалище.
When I was trying to get pregnant I totally pictured rocking my baby in the soft light of dawn. I closed my eyes and imagined my baby’s soft coo, her giggle, I knew one day we would play ring around the rosie and all fall down. What I did not picture was my daughter chasing me down the hallway with a postage stamp size bit of toilet paper yelling at me to stop because she has to wipe my butt. Alas, here we are, and no, my ass does not need cleaning.

A photo of Zoey and her other sudden fixation: washing her hands. Because you don't want a picture of her wiping my ass.

Perhaps this is an integral part of the potty training process that is not covered in the cinéma vérité that is Elmo’s Potty Time DVD? Because lately Zoey is obsessed with my bits. It’s September in the Bay Area which means that summer has just begun. When I get home in the afternoon the house is hot and stuffy. First thing I do is shed my clothes and don a short, thin cotton robe I bought in India. First thing Zoey does is go to the bathroom to grab small fistfuls of toilet paper. Mama? Your butt? If I am lucky she hands it to me. If I am not looking she will very quickly shove her hand up the back of my robe to clean me.

And here is where I reiterate: my ass does not need cleaning.

Is this normal? My daughter’s acute fixation with my personal hygiene? Because I thought this moment would not arrive for at least another fifty years. There is no argument that changing someone’s diaper is the height of love, what with all the poop and creases and shadowy places. And it feels terrible to turn a blind eye (not a brown eye) to my daughter’s outstretched offer of a hand, to run down the hallway away from her. But really. Ne touche pas, Petunia. Nein. Watch your cabeza, ma petite. Ciò disgusta!

17 comments:

Oh Brother! said...

I'm just...

I'm kinda...

Uh...

Well...

Ahhh...

And then...

Hmm...

Eh.

(Breath. Breath. Happy thoughts. Collecting myself...)

Ok, never NEVER never (did I mention "never?") can you reprimand ME for "embarassing" YOU.

Uh uh. Nope. Nein.

-Bro

Megan said...

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa ha ha ha ha.

Jules said...

How adorable!

I do have one complaint. Can you possibly take one bad picture of Zoey? One where she doesn't look like a starfish-eyed angel? Shes making the rest of our kids look homely.

Thanks.

I wish I were a ballerina... said...

Oh you never cease to make me laugh! If you were a man I would stalk you.

corine said...

trés drôle.

Claire said...

My life, exactly (well, minus the speaking in other languages bit - I don't know any other languages) - adventures in potty-land. Isn't 2 such an adorable age???

karey m. said...

so much ickier than lillie grabbing my boobies whenever they're exposed.

thanks for that. and sorry your babe is turning into your personal bidet. xoxo.

sherri said...

hilarious. the conversations I have with my son about his privates are pretty funny. boys are obsessed too, but with theirs, not your bits. big surprise, huh?

Amanda said...

PLease, please write a book. You so brilliantly capture each defining moment in a parent's life!

Loved it!

S.HOPtalk said...

My husband is currently staring at me, totally perplexed as to why I can't stop LOL at the computer.

I'm happy to say, I've never experienced this aspect of child rearing, but as Kareym reports, I, too, have an obsessed boobie lover. I've taken to hiding in a dark closet when changing my clothes.

jessica said...

That is too funny. At least she wants to help, right?

The Lil Bee said...

Mama? Your butt?

And you speak to her in foreign languages!!

I think Petunia Face needs a reality show.

jen said...

Okay. Picture this: an appointment with my midwives (important to the story) for my PAP smear when my son was maybe 18 months old. He is in the exam room with us. I am spread-eagled on the table, feet a-stirrupped.

Midwife begins to explain why mommy is lying this way while placing the speculum you-know-where. My son doesn't look interested (duh) until she turns her head to pick up a slide or extra-scary Q-tip. Then...

POKE!

Yes.

It was his finger.

In THERE.

And I'm still peeling myself off the ceiling.

AND pre-booking a therapist when he recalls this childhood memory.

Kathi D said...

Well, as you suggested, it IS good practice for the future, 50 or so years from now.

Visual Vamp said...

Oh darlin' I've been off the grid, so I've had some catching up to do with the poo chronicles.
And the bit about being overheard speaking a foreign language, though two or three words barely qualifies, but this story had me doing a pee chronicle of my own.
Mil gracias, con cariño y amistad.
PS No one at any age reads The Readers Digest anymore - maybe use the pages for TP, but that is it.

katiedid said...

And when you do need her help 50 years from now...I think she swear she NEVER. EVER wanted to clean your bum . This is so funny!

Pumpkin Petunia said...

Laughing mon âne off!