One of Alyssa’s very few chores around the house is to get toilet paper from the upstairs linen closet and bring it down (usually in batches four rolls) to the small cabinet in the downstairs half bath.
Yesterday she was running up the stairs to do something and Tom called after her to bring down four rolls.
She sighed and grumbled something about why she had to do everything.
I just happened to already be upstairs at the time and I grumbled back, “Well, someone has to do it and it might as well be you.”
She grumbled about not wanting to take toilet paper downstairs.
I said, “Yeah and tonight I’m not going to want to make dinner and yet, guess what? I’m going to do it anyway.”
“Yeah, but,” she interjected, “I’m going to be hungry, which is why you’ll have to make dinner.”
I countered, “And at some point today, you’re also going to need to wipe your butt.”
She blinked at me a couple of times and without a word got four rolls of toilet paper and took it down to the bathroom.
I love it when I can use the word butt in a teaching moment.
A mom, a dad and two daughters. We're living ordinary lives with a twist of 5p- (Cri du Chat) for spice. But we're about so much more than our younger daughter's genetic diagnosis.
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