Forgetful
Penny's adorable brown eyes are fluttering, as she sits on a training potty in front of the television, watching the evening's third episode of "Peppa Pig." The poor girl forgot to remove her diaper before using the potty, which, while annoying, also is sadly not uncommon in this house anymore. It's funny- the girl can remember all the characters and plot devices of a British television show about anthropomorphic pigs and their animal friends and recite them ad nauseum while I attempt to feed her, but somehow, removing her Huggies before using the loo was simply beyond her. Go figure. I sigh, approaching with a fresh diaper in my hand. "Sweetie?" I ask, bracing myself internally for the battle about to follow. "Wha, Dada..." She mumbles, still entranced by the show, thumb in mouth. "It's night-night time, sweetie." Now I've got her attention. The woman-turned-toddler looks up at me, a look of fear and indignance on her face. She turned her head so fast that one of her brown pigtails brushes her cheek. "But daddy.... I wanna watch Peppa!" "Penny, no. You've already watched three whole episodes. It's time to get you changed and off to beddy-bye. You know how you get when you're tired." My baby girl is a supremely adorable one, but also prone to incidents of brattiness. "Daddy... stop..." My baby girl stands up, now facing me. It's an adorable sight, the woman wearing a Frozen t-shirt and a big white and purple diaper swinging pendulously between her legs, full of pee-pees, especially given what she's about to say to me next- "I dun wanna weaw diapees anymowe..." "Baby, your diaper is soaked right now. You need them." I seize her wrist, hearing a soft whimper. "Now, come on, before I put you in the corner for disobeying." "Daddy... noooooo..."My baby girl is now crying as I lead her over to the changing table. The poor thing. I set her up on the table, laying her down and removing her diaper. "Pwease Daddy, dis embawwassin! I alweady went potty!" "Baby girl..." I begin wiping her crotch, cooing at her all the while. "You did so good trying to go potty for me, but..."
"T-trying?" She asks. Poor girl probably didn't even notice. Her object permanence and her knowledge of proper potty protocol has been absolutely wrecked. "You have to take your diaper off before going potty, honey." The girl's eyes, moist with fresh, hot tears, open wide. "What?" She asks, in disbelief, as I tape a new diaper on. The error of her ways is setting in, as a fresh wave of humiliation causes her to cover her face with her eyes. "N-no! Come ON!" "Sorry, baby." I finish taping the new diaper on, hoisting the petite girl onto my hip like a real toddler. "I'm sure you'll get the hang of it someday." I'm lying, of course. I know for a fact that deep down, despite the embarrassment and shame, she doesn't want to "get the hang of it" and I don't want her to. "O-okay, Daddy..." She sniffles, as I pull her in close and bring her to her room. "Daddy... can I sweep wif you tonight?" She asks. My baby girl has tried this so many times that I could practically recite the conversation ad verbatim. It's like a script we both read from, playing a part in a nightly play for an audience of stuffies. "Baby, where do little girls sleep?" I ask, in the same tired yet inquisitive tone from last night. "In- in deir cribs..." She disappointedly replies. "Why, honey?" I ask, knowing the answer as well as she does. "Be-cuz... Daddy mean." Ooh, a new twist. "Penny..." I call, in a warning tone, setting her on a beanbag chair and lowering the bars of her crib. "Why do babies sleep in cribs?" "Daddy!" She whines, indignantly. "Imma widdle giwl, nodda baby!"
"Okay, then, sweetie, why do little girls sleep in cribs?" I ask, in a tone that borders on mocking. "Cuz, Daddy wants to keep dem safe." Finally, the right answer. I ruffle her brown hair, causing her to giggle. I love her laugh. It's so bubbly and cute. "Good little girl." I smile, handing her a stuffie. It's a unicorn, a well-loved off-white thing with a sparkly purple mane and a glittery horn. Getting the bottle on her nightstand, filled with milk, I lay her down, draping a soft "b'anky" on her crinkly, diapered hips, and then kissing her on the forehead. I give her a baba as I shut off the light, an Ariel night-light offering the only light in the room. "I wuv'ou, Daddy..." The girl's soft brown eyes flutter once again, this time closing. "I love you too, baby girl." I whisper, closing the door and allowing my baby girl to drift off to dreamland and forget all of her cares and worries.












