The Teaching Moment

The last few weeks with Hazel have been hard.  Really hard.  Hard enough that we've questioned our ability to right the ship that is Hazel In 2-Year-Old Mode.  Nothing... not Benny in Taper Mode, not Jaynee in Pregnancy Week 39 Mode, not Millie in Diaper Diva Mode can compare to the wrath and the extreme mood swings of Hazel in 2-Year-Old Mode.

So, there hasn't been a whole lot in our house to be jolly about so far this Christmas.  If Hazel's not crying about her sister playing with her favorite block (out of a possible 30 blocks to choose from, she chose the one that Hazel has a strong bond with), she's whining that she wants milk.  Or water.  Or sweat from a baby albino elephant.  And, as I may have alluded to before... it sorta, kinda BLOWS to live with The Terrorist Toddler these days.

But tonight... tonight was one of those nights where, okay... yea, not exactly what we thought about when we first started talking about having kids a few years ago.  But, by God... when you look past the poop on the ground right outside the bathroom, and come to grips with the fact that you actually saw the poop coming out of The Toddler's butt, but you were momentarily paralyzed and were only able to utter:  "Nnnnnnoooooooooo!" as you watched it fall on the wood floor with a soft "plop"... these are the moments (actually it's the moments following that exact moment) that bring us closer together and make us a family.  These are the moments that you tell your Mommy friends about the next day, if only to give them a heads up while subconsciously rubbing your hands together thinking:  "I can't WAIT for this to happen to you."

These are the types of things that you and your husband handle very efficiently at the time. Without even verbalizing it, you both go into survival mode.  "You get the poop and The Toddler, I'll get the baby."  The baby who was inches from making an already bad poopy situation EVEN WORSE. The baby who just wants to be in the middle of things.  Be it the kitchen while we cook breakfast... or the three little nuggets of poop that her sister just dropped off in the hallway.

Later, after the kids are in bed, the hallway has been sanitized and you've both had a glass of wine... THAT'S when you reflect on what happened that night.  And bring things up that the other thought you may not have noticed  in the haze that is Parenthood.

You bring up things like the fact that after the poop had been picked up off the floor and put in the toilet, Daddy spent an uncomfortable amount of time waving goodbye to the poopy as it swirled around the toilet.  While The Toddler quickly lost interest and found Daddy's toothbrush and commenced brushing her teeth.  While Daddy still stood there, waving - yes, WAVING - at what can only be described as Mr. Hanky, the Christmas Poo and his two little friends and saying "Bye-bye, poopie!  Bye-bye!!!"

At the time, when I asked him what he was doing, the man shushed me... actually shushed me... and said:  "It's a teaching moment."

The jury is out on who taught who what. 

But my money is on Hazel. 

Because she figured out how to get Daddy to talk to poop.