This morning, our young nephew William felt the Call of Nature.
One thing I have learned in all my years of Parent- and Unclehood is, you do not want to ignore a four-year-old child, especially when said child announces, in a semi-frantic manner, “I gotta poop!”
And She Who Must Be Obeyed, who is also privy (you should excuse the expression) to the same wisdom, was right there to help.
Unfortunately, at that moment, both upstairs bathrooms were occupied: one with little William’s mother, the other with Elder Daughter.
That left only the downstairs bathroom, which William was reluctant to use.
“There’s a spider in that bathroom, Aunt SWMBO!”
Well there was one there...once. But now there was no way to convince William that the downstairs bathroom was not a permanent Spider-Lair...much as it is impossible to convince some people that nests of zombies do not live in rural Tennessee.
But the necessities of the moment demand decisive action. Quoth SWMBO, “You just let me deal with the spider.” And thus it was that little nephew William proceeded forthwith to have a Successful Poopy Event.
But a certain small irony did not escape my eyes. Not ten minutes prior, what did William have on but his Spider-Man costume? What was he bouncing about the house but his official Spider-Man bouncy-ball?
O, sweet contradiction of Childhood, that one may wish to be a Spider-Man, yet have no contact whatsoever with actual (or imagined) spiders?
One thing I have learned in all my years of Parent- and Unclehood is, you do not want to ignore a four-year-old child, especially when said child announces, in a semi-frantic manner, “I gotta poop!”
And She Who Must Be Obeyed, who is also privy (you should excuse the expression) to the same wisdom, was right there to help.
Unfortunately, at that moment, both upstairs bathrooms were occupied: one with little William’s mother, the other with Elder Daughter.
That left only the downstairs bathroom, which William was reluctant to use.
“There’s a spider in that bathroom, Aunt SWMBO!”
Well there was one there...once. But now there was no way to convince William that the downstairs bathroom was not a permanent Spider-Lair...much as it is impossible to convince some people that nests of zombies do not live in rural Tennessee.
But the necessities of the moment demand decisive action. Quoth SWMBO, “You just let me deal with the spider.” And thus it was that little nephew William proceeded forthwith to have a Successful Poopy Event.
But a certain small irony did not escape my eyes. Not ten minutes prior, what did William have on but his Spider-Man costume? What was he bouncing about the house but his official Spider-Man bouncy-ball?
O, sweet contradiction of Childhood, that one may wish to be a Spider-Man, yet have no contact whatsoever with actual (or imagined) spiders?
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