Last night Andrew and I didn't communicate very well about bedtime routines. I had helped Rachel use the washroom and then about 15 minutes later Andrew took her to the washroom again. She was pretty upset about it.
"It's hard, Daddy," she explained, giving a few pushes to show that she was really trying to go.
"Just try a little longer, Rachel," Andrew said, "You always have to go potty before bed."
We make her go potty so often. Right when she wakes up, before and after naps (if she takes one), before we go outside to go anywhere, before bed, anytime she wakes up during the night, before and after swimming...I could go on and on. We just don't usually make her go potty every 15 minutes. I don't even have to go potty every 15 minutes and I have a baby bouncing on my bladder.
"Daddy," Rachel said finally, completely exasperated, "I am so done!"
She stood up and walked away from the potty, leaving it completely empty.
"Rachel didn't do anything," Andrew told me, while wrestling her into a diaper.
"That's probably because I just took her like 15 minutes ago..." I said.
"Oh." He said.
Rachel has been using the word "so" ever since and it's terribly effective for her.
We spent most of our day at the swimming pool today. Amiee gave Rachel an inflatable duck--she was watching Rachel in the kiddie pool while I gave her kids some swimming help (and we got in trouble for that because Maadi House has so many rules it's ridiculous)--that Rachel had been swimming in for the whole day. She loved it and didn't want to part with it and Amiee said they didn't need it anymore, so it came home with us.
I deflated it, which made Rachel a little upset. Or a lot upset. She cried about it for almost the whole way home and I was completely out of patience; I was about to deflate her, too.
"Rachel, the duck is for swimming. You can't just play with it because it might get a hole and then you won't be able to swim with it anymore. It's only for the pool. Stop asking about it. Stop crying about it. Stop whining about it. Just stop."
She looked up at me with big tears in her eyes and said,
"I want it, Mommy! I need it, Mommy! I want it so bad! I want it soooo bad!"
Her "soooo bad" was so sincere and so passionate that I almost handed it right back to her (have I mentioned recently that I'm a pushover?), but I stayed firm (and didn't even laugh at her cuteness).
"Sometimes we can't have the things we want, even if we want them soooo bad!" I told her.
And then held her and rocked her while she cried and sniffled, repeating, "I want it so bad, Mommy! I want it so bad, Mommy! I want it so bad, Mommy!" in a hushed, woebegone voice. Her eyes were squeezed shut tightly; it was almost as if she was making a wish.
"I know, I know, I know," I answered her, stroking her tear-stained face.
When Daddy arrived home, she told him that she wanted the ducky soooo bad. We took it out and she showed it to him and he explained (again) why we couldn't play with it like a toy and that it was only for the pool.
I think part of the reason this is soooo funny is the way she pronounces so. I'll have to catch it on tape or think of a way to describe it fully. It's soooo adorable.