Wednesday, February 19, 2020

A morning mystery

Last night was our church activity night, so I went to church with the three oldest (since I'm one of the activity leaders) and we ended up staying out later than we ordinarily do because the girls had to practice their song for Sunday and so forth.

By the time we got home, Andrew had Alexander and Zoë in bed. They weren't asleep, but they were in bed! I sang to them and rubbed their backs and read them a chapter from Anne of Green Gables. Then I sat in the hallway and read and crocheted until Alexander finally succumbed to sleep.

He sneaked into our room in the middle of the night and padded over to my sided of the bed and I just heaved him on in and let him nestle in between us, not giving anything a second thought. When we woke up in the morning I reached over to check if Alexander was dry and was shocked to find that he was not wearing a diaper or a pull-up (so was then extra relieved that he had, in fact, stayed dry)!

I texted Andrew: "You put the baby to bed wearing underwear?!?!?!"

To his credit, Alexander usually stays dry over night. He's not going to be a complicated nighttime wetter like some of our other children have been. But he still climbs into bed with us every night and I really don't want him having an accident in my bed, so we still put him in a diaper (we have a few sleeves left over from his diaper days) or pull up (we have some that Uncle Cory gave to us before we left that Riley didn't use). We've talked about going without, but aren't quite ready to take that leap. At least, that's what I had thought we decided.

"No...?" Andrew texted back.

"Yes," I said.

"No, I put him to bed in a pull-up."

"No."

"100% certain. A pull-up and his blue bear jammies."

"100% not in a pull-up and blue bear jammies. 100% in underwear and green moose jammies."

"????? No."

"!!!!! Yes."

By this time I had started laughing because this was all so weird!


It took quite a bit of texting back and forth between Andrew and me, and interviewing Zoë and Alexander at length, but I think I finally understand what happened.

I asked Alexander if Daddy had put him to bed wearing underwear and he said, "No. BoBo did!"

Andrew said that there was a point—after the kids had been put to bed and also after some goofing off between the two of them—that Zoë had come out to inform him that she had spilled a little bit of her water bottle but that she had "fixed everything." Andrew thanked her and told her to get back in bed.

When I came home to sing to the kids I didn't check to see if Alexander was wearing a diaper because Andrew had put him to bed and he's not unfamiliar with getting kids ready for bed so I just trusted that Alexander was appropriately attired.

Alexander had even told me, "Mommy, oo tan bing a bong to me but oo don't hab to hep me bay my bayer betuh Daddy hept me bay my bayer!"

Translation: Mommy, you can sing a song to me but you don't have to help me say my prayers because Daddy helped me say my prayers!

Side note: The child has excellent sentence structure and a robust vocabulary, but since he doesn't say s/z/v/f (and maybe a few other sounds) outsiders (and sometimes us insiders) can't tell what he says 100% of the time (or ever).

So I thought Alexander had been sent to bed in his diaper and jammies, with his teeth adequately brushed, having been given a plethora of hugs and kisses (and probably an electronic lullaby from Mommy (I have a few songs I've recorded on the kids' devices that can be played to them when I can't be there to sing in person)), and even having said his prayers. Not too shabby!

And thus my shock at finding Alexander in underwear this morning.

"Zoë must have spilled her water bottle on Alexander," Andrew surmised. "And she 'fixed everything' by changing him out of his wet things."

She was still asleep, so I checked the laundry basket and found his blue bear jammies in the dark.

"But I need to locate his pull-up," I told Andrew. "Before we accidentally wash it. It wasn't with his jammies."

When Zoë woke up I asked her what she had done with the pull-up and she reached into a different bin of laundry—we have a tri-bag laundry sorting system at our house—and pulled it out. She'd responsibly separated it from his jammies, placing his pyjamas with the darks and the pull-up with the whites (why I didn't think to look there, I don't know (perhaps because my children aren't passionate clothes sorters)). She also confessed that they had been goofing off and she'd dumped her water bottle on him, which made him sad because he was all wet, so she just helped him change.

And that concludes my morning of mystery-solving. 

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