Two Saturday's ago was a learning weekend for me. Some might say an eye opener.
I had the pleasure of taking care of my darling Buns for the weekend. For those of you who don't know who the buns are, they are my two year old twin godsons (one is an honorary godson the other is an actual godson). They are beautiful. Their names are Connor and Aaron, or according to Aaron, Connor's name is Baby and according to Connor, Aaron's name is Gannon. They also have a dog that's been called Penny for the last 19 years but is now suddenly KiKi!
This is the first time I've had the pleasure of the two boys without their wonderful Mama on the scene to keep things ticking along smoothly. Oh holy mother of god!
These two are crazy. They are wired to the moon and every other planet in our solar system. They are funny and affectionate. They are busy. Very busy. They don't stop talking all day long (something they have clearly picked up from their mother, along with a temper that could demolish a living room and it's contents!). They have the funniest little accents and are obsessed with car washes. All they talk about are car washes. Until they see one. Then they are afraid of it and they cry. As I said, eye opener!
The biggest lesson I learned that weekend will stay with me all the days of my life. And probably Aaron's too. I think to say myself and the child are traumatised is an understatement. I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. You know when you get a few minutes of quite and your mind wanders? Well mine wanders to "The Incident"...
I have been quite proud of the fact that I had managed to make it loving these two little people for 30 months without once every having to change a number two nappy. It was an achievement I thought. And I accepted that if I had them for the weekend, I would at least have to change 4 of them. Thinking that 1 number 2 per day per child was an acceptable quota. It's not. I felt like I changed about a billion of them. If I didn't know any better I'd say their mother told them to hold on for dear life until I came and then let loose.
Anyway, I digress, "The Incident". When I dressed the Aarron bun, I put a vest and t-shirt, Jumper and Jeans on him. It was a little thermal vest that I tucked into his jeans.
Mid-afternoon it was nap time. So I brought them up to bed and put them in their little cots in their lovely bedroom and said "night now" and ran down the stairs looking forward to a cup of tea and some quite time. I could hear them talking to one another "Hello Carwash", "Bye Bye Car wash" etc. Then it changed to "Bye bye yuk". I thought Aaron was saying bye bye truck. He wasn't. He started to cry. I went to him. I wish I hadn't.
When I got upstairs, I realised he was actually saying bye bye yuck because in the middle of the bedroom floor was a nappy. Not an open nappy, it was sitting there are if it was on the arse of an invisible child. Still done up in perfect shape. I thought, damn it, he's after going for a pooh and taking off his nappy.
Thats not what happened.
The nappy was clean. He was still saying bye bye yuck. I couldn't piece together what I was seeing. I couldn't make my brain understand that he had somehow wiggled out of his nappy and had clearly pooh-ed but where? Then I saw it.
Yes, you guessed. Aaron wasn't alone in his cot. He was accompanied by a number two on his blanket. I heaved. I couldn't beleive that I would acutally have to touch this. I assume that when you have had a part in making the arse that makes such a mess you are less inclined to wretch. I had no hand in this process and therefore I nearly vomitted all over the place. Way out of my depth. I told him that this was all very uncivilised and things needed to change.
I got the place cleaned up. But naturally, the Aaron Bun was as traumatised as I was and he refused to nap. And in turn, the Connor Bun decided that he wasn't napping either. So we all went downstairs and I dreamed of a pooh free day!!!
Moral of the story? Never ever ever put a nappy wearing child in a vest that doesn't button between their legs. Ever....
I had the pleasure of taking care of my darling Buns for the weekend. For those of you who don't know who the buns are, they are my two year old twin godsons (one is an honorary godson the other is an actual godson). They are beautiful. Their names are Connor and Aaron, or according to Aaron, Connor's name is Baby and according to Connor, Aaron's name is Gannon. They also have a dog that's been called Penny for the last 19 years but is now suddenly KiKi!
This is the first time I've had the pleasure of the two boys without their wonderful Mama on the scene to keep things ticking along smoothly. Oh holy mother of god!
These two are crazy. They are wired to the moon and every other planet in our solar system. They are funny and affectionate. They are busy. Very busy. They don't stop talking all day long (something they have clearly picked up from their mother, along with a temper that could demolish a living room and it's contents!). They have the funniest little accents and are obsessed with car washes. All they talk about are car washes. Until they see one. Then they are afraid of it and they cry. As I said, eye opener!
The biggest lesson I learned that weekend will stay with me all the days of my life. And probably Aaron's too. I think to say myself and the child are traumatised is an understatement. I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. You know when you get a few minutes of quite and your mind wanders? Well mine wanders to "The Incident"...
I have been quite proud of the fact that I had managed to make it loving these two little people for 30 months without once every having to change a number two nappy. It was an achievement I thought. And I accepted that if I had them for the weekend, I would at least have to change 4 of them. Thinking that 1 number 2 per day per child was an acceptable quota. It's not. I felt like I changed about a billion of them. If I didn't know any better I'd say their mother told them to hold on for dear life until I came and then let loose.
Anyway, I digress, "The Incident". When I dressed the Aarron bun, I put a vest and t-shirt, Jumper and Jeans on him. It was a little thermal vest that I tucked into his jeans.
Mid-afternoon it was nap time. So I brought them up to bed and put them in their little cots in their lovely bedroom and said "night now" and ran down the stairs looking forward to a cup of tea and some quite time. I could hear them talking to one another "Hello Carwash", "Bye Bye Car wash" etc. Then it changed to "Bye bye yuk". I thought Aaron was saying bye bye truck. He wasn't. He started to cry. I went to him. I wish I hadn't.
When I got upstairs, I realised he was actually saying bye bye yuck because in the middle of the bedroom floor was a nappy. Not an open nappy, it was sitting there are if it was on the arse of an invisible child. Still done up in perfect shape. I thought, damn it, he's after going for a pooh and taking off his nappy.
Thats not what happened.
The nappy was clean. He was still saying bye bye yuck. I couldn't piece together what I was seeing. I couldn't make my brain understand that he had somehow wiggled out of his nappy and had clearly pooh-ed but where? Then I saw it.
Yes, you guessed. Aaron wasn't alone in his cot. He was accompanied by a number two on his blanket. I heaved. I couldn't beleive that I would acutally have to touch this. I assume that when you have had a part in making the arse that makes such a mess you are less inclined to wretch. I had no hand in this process and therefore I nearly vomitted all over the place. Way out of my depth. I told him that this was all very uncivilised and things needed to change.
I got the place cleaned up. But naturally, the Aaron Bun was as traumatised as I was and he refused to nap. And in turn, the Connor Bun decided that he wasn't napping either. So we all went downstairs and I dreamed of a pooh free day!!!
Moral of the story? Never ever ever put a nappy wearing child in a vest that doesn't button between their legs. Ever....
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