A friend once admitted that since becoming a parent, she has found herself saying extraordinary things, like “Please keep your bottom to yourself” and “No, I don’t want to smell your fart.”
I thought fondly of this friend the other day when I found myself pretending to be my daughter’s urine.
Recently, Little Sister (almost 3) suddenly got possessive about her pee. After going at bath time, she would then hold it all night, through the next day’s morning routine, and sometimes even until after we’d arrived at daycare--some 14 hours after she’d last relieved herself. She must have needed to go (surely??) but she valiantly resisted doing the deed. She would hold out to the very limits of her strong will, not to mention her bladder of iron, notwithstanding gentle suggestions, heartfelt pleas, bribery, or threats.
On our recent overseas holiday, I started to get more anxious than usual about this little quirk of hers. I needed to know that the crucial moment would not come in the middle of a two-hour bus ride, or in a crowded check-in queue. I needed, somehow, to achieve pee on demand.
It was at that point that I remembered the words of Big Sister’s amazing daycare teacher: “They love it when you animate ordinary objects. If they don’t want to put on their shoes, give their shoes a sweet little voice: ‘Hey! Please put us on! We want to be on your feet! Pleeeeease!’ ”
And so it was that, in absolute desperation, last week I took a shot at being the soft, high-pitched, lovable Voice of Wee Wee.
“Hel-lo? Can anyone hear me? Little Sister, are you there? It’s your wee wee! Hey, I really want to come out for a lovely swim in the toilet. Please would you let me out? Oh, pretty please?”
I felt like a prize idiot. No one except my daughter could hear me, but that didn’t change the fact that I was a 36-year-old woman pretending to be piss trapped in a toddler’s bladder. I pondered my 18+ years of formal education and wondered where it had all gone wrong.
That was, until I heard an unfamiliar hissing noise, and realised in amazement that my cringe-making efforts had actually bloody-well worked! Never before had the sound of another person peeing been such a balm to my frayed nerves.
I was caught off-guard, though, at Little Sister’s effusive reaction. In a giggly, high-pitched voice (how else would a front bottom speak, after all?) she replied grandly: “There you go, Wee Wee! You’re welcome!” Front Bottom went on to express the sincere wish that Wee Wee have fun swimming in the toilet, and to point out a few exciting possibilities, e.g., availability of used toilet paper for floating games, not to mention more friends potentially dropping by after Big Sister’s turn on the toilet.
I couldn’t have predicted the overwhelming popularity of The Voice of Wee Wee. As you can imagine, he/she/it did not manage to get away with a one-time performance. On the contrary, Little Sister has generously stepped up her efforts in the toilet department in order to give Wee Wee more air time.
And on top of that, it turns out that Wee Wee has a deep-voiced friend called Poo Poo.