Are you one of my many 3 readers waiting for a new post? Well, here's a story about waiting that I posted on my family blog in January. I've debated over posting it here. Too much information? But, in the end I thought it was too good an example of my day-to-day experience for me not to share with all.
There are many people in my life who are waiting. Among them, my friend Tiff and her family are waiting for news on a potential job that would result in relocation. My neighbors are joyfully awaiting the birth of their first baby sometime soon this month. My family is waiting for my dad to return from Iraq. I do not wish to diminish the worthiness of their noble waiting. But I was afforded a new perspective on waiting today via my not-more-than 3 years and 1 month old.
The three older girls were off to school. Clinton had kissed me goodbye and was well on his way to work. Smallest had gotten up but decided to play in her room. I puttered around with laundry and at the computer when I heard her yelling. She had shut her door, essentially locking herself in. Upon her rescue we headed to the kitchen to make breakfast. But first I needed to make a quick pit-stop.
I scurried to the half-bath off the kitchen. In my haste I failed to notice the empty roll. A quick check under the sink and all around revealed absolutely no more toilet paper.
I called her name.
Head peeking around the door, "Whu' Momma?"
"Could you please go get me some toilet paper?" and I proceeded to describe the 3 fresh rolls sitting on the hamper upstairs in my bathroom.
"O.K.!" And off she went. She didn't return, at least not right away. I called her name twice. The second time I could hear her coming down the back stairs talking to herself. She appeared in the bathroom.
"I can't find it."
I described the location again trying hard to mask my frustration with a sing-songy-you-can-do-this-and-it's-gonna-be-so-great sort of tone. Hoping that would be just the encouragement she needed I sent her back.
Her little feet carried her to the kitchen were she seemed to get distracted by something. I called her name in an effort to re-direct. I heard her reach the kitchen stairs where it seemed she stopped to converse with the cat.
I called her name again. Then I didn't hear anything. I heard nothing for a very long time. I called her name several times.
Then I heard her hurrying in my direction, little whispers mixed with breathing. She poked her head in the door. I could only see her little smiling eyes as she shoved her fist toward me. She was very proud. She opened her small hand and there were 3 whispers of toilet paper waded together - not the size of a quarter.
Breathe. In. Out. Smile. "O.K....Thank you....Could you go get the big toilet paper?" I asked as I
poundedtapped the empty dispenser."I can't find it."
"Yes you can." And I described it one last time. She even asked a few questions as if to be sure she was heading in the right direction.
Off she went. Never to be seen or heard from again. I called. And I called. And I called. All the while looking again under the sink and devising ways of dealing with the situation without her help. After what felt like an hour - but this whole thing probably lasted a total of 10-15 minutes - I succumbed to the hopelessness of my plight.
I dealt with it. The details I'll spare.
Walking into the kitchen I saw that the stair door was closed. I opened it. Nothing. I couldn't even hear her. Deciding not to call her and not even to mention it I began making breakfast.
Silently but swiftly she appeared in the kitchen. Proudly offering me her little fresh roll of toilet paper.
"Thank you. But it's too late." I said as I took it from her and went to put it on the bathroom sink. She followed me explaining something about all the rolls falling out of a bag (what bag!?) and how she had to put them all back. (you had to put them all back but you can't seem to put a single toy away without being told!? - these thoughts I kept to myself)
Later as we sat side by side eating our scrambled eggs and toast she chirped, "I have to go poopy." As I helped her little tush onto the potty I turned to see the toilet paper on the counter. I would be lying if I said I didn't imagine myself picking it up...
...and disappearing.
