Wipes

One night Noah was having a pretty hard time trying to go to sleep – he was crying, yelling, whining, general discord. He was up and down, out of bed, back to bed, out of bed again, so on, so on, so on. It was getting old, because by the time that the following exchange and situation happened he’d gotten up from bed about 20+ times.

So he came into our room again and said this time “Peepee on the potty.”

Now Noah is a bright kid and he knows ways to get us to pay attention to him, and we’ve got a standing rule that if he tells us he needs to pee at night, we’ll help him out, since he still has a semi-hard time getting onto the toilet by himself. So I got up and took him into the bathroom, sit him down, and he starts the grunting, meaning that he’s got to poop. He does his business and then I start cleaning him up. All the while he’s crying, yelling, whining, general dischord, like I said earlier.

I get his underwear and pj pants back on and we start heading back to bed, but he doesn’t want to go. I see I left the wipes open and start to close them, but he yells out –

“No!”

”No what?”

”Not the wipes!”

”What? You don’t want me to close the wipes?”

”Don’t leave the wipes.”

”Don’t leave the wipes?”

”No.”

So I took the wipes with us, and he got in bed, and he ended up sleeping with the box of wipes. He was cuddling them the next morning, too.

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