The following series of entirely ridiculous events actually happened on the evening of June 18, 2013: Beanie’s second birthday.
Names were not changed to protect the innocent.
Beanie had a wonderful Tuesday at daycare and was amazingly cheerful when I went to pick her up.
This was the fourth day of birthday celebration, which started with a penguin-themed Splish Splash Birthday Bash on Saturday (more on that at another time).
All she wanted to do tonight was to blow out candles after dinner. Since we are mean, terrible parents, we didn’t see the need to get her more cake following Saturday’s festivities.
While we were eating, Beanie bestowed some knowledge on us.
1) She told The Wife that she was Beanie’s best friend. Adorable!
2) She pointed at me and called me “Michael.” Much less adorable. Fellow parents say the “first name thing” is normal…but not all that fun.
To distract her from calling me by my first name, we lit a long candle so she could blow it out.
We started singing “Happy Birthday” and she screamed at us to stop! “STOP IT, MOMMY DADDY!”
I smiled, because I was “Daddy” again!
She wanted to blow out her candle, and no public-domain song would get in her way.
BHUUUUU – she did it!
And then she demanded we relight the candle and do it again.
SIX times we lit the candle so she could blow it out, our enthusiasm for the celebration decreasing with each iteration.
She said she had to go to the bathroom, so The Wife took her to the potty.
Where she did nothing.
For 10 minutes. Nothing.
While she was in the potty, my parents and aunt came over to visit. When Beanie heard they were here, she ran her naked butt into the kitchen.
And proceeded to poop on the floor.
When you see human feces in your kitchen, your brain shuts down.
So while her grandmother took her to the toilet, I ran all over the house, eventually grabbing a bottle of carpet cleaner…for our tiled floor. Naturally.
As our Three Stooges From Hell bit continued, my mother-in-law ended up with poop on her leg, I finally found the right cleaning solution and our newborn screamed.
While scrubbing the floor like Cinderella, I remembered a critical detail that further complicated the evening. At school that day, Beanie ended up coloring her arm. Two-year-olds do this sort of thing. So after cleaning up from the potty experience gone awry, The Wife gave Beanie a bath, while I soothed the baby.
Seconds after removing the marker from her arm, Beanie announced that she had to poop more.
So we sat her on the toilet for…30 minutes. And nothing happened. We even gave her a fiber tortilla to snack on. Sadly, fiber doesn’t work that quickly. So we waited while she sat.
After half an hour of throne time, it was clearly time for bed.
Earlier that day, The Wife built Beanie’s toddler bed and organized her new room and very much wanted to transition her immediately.
We got Beanie down after reading a book – nearly two hours past her bedtime.
In the middle of the night, The Wife woke up to Beanie screaming that BAD scream (all parents know the difference between a run-of-the-mill cry and the holy-hell cry).
Beanie had wiggled out of her new bed and wandered into the closet of her new room – a room she had barely ever been in.
The Wife brought Beanie into our bed…and the poor kid…she had to sleep diagonal across the bed.
Around 4am, I brought her back into her bed. And at 6am, I woke up to hear Bug crying, as The Wife ran in after spending the last hour trying to sleep on the floor by Beanie’s bed to help ease her into the new world.
Best friend, first name, poop, followed by constipation, tied together with a rocky start to her new room.
Happy birthday, indeed…