Every day that I work with the toddlers I become more convinced that they come from another planet — perhaps Neptune. Here are some recent snapshots of my days:
Goober and Goobrette are pushing three now, which means that they’re very interactive and will play imaginative games with each other. Yesterday’s jeu-de-choix consisted of them yelling “Funny game! Funny game! Funny game!” at each other, over… and over… and over.
As far as I can tell, that was the entire game.
In the “Hygiene? What’s that?” department, a short series of events this afternoon:
1. Goober sits down on the potty for a pee. He’s not paying attention so it runs off to the side and down his leg.
2. I point out that there’s pipi on the floor. “Pipi on the floor,” I advise, “don’t put your foot in it!” Goober puts his foot in it.
3. I dive behind him for a spare cloth diaper hanging around for mop-up needs. Goober wipes his foot off on his hand.
4. “Don’t wipe the pipi on your hand!” I cry. Goober promptly wipes his hand off… on his face.
Incidental to the above, some of you may be under the impression that it’s only little boys that you have to teach to aim. You’d be surprised.
Twice now, Goobrette has urgently called me into the bathroom, where I’ve found her on the big potty with a lap full of pee.
“Pipi up!” she’d wail, “Pipi up!”
I still have no idea how that happens.
The three of us were sitting at the table the other day, eating lunch and minding our own business, when suddenly Goobrette’s arms started flailing and she started yelling.
“AAAARRRWOOOAAAAAA!! Me Goobrette, very loud!”
A+ for observational skills.