George wee’d the bed last night!!!!
A normal childhood accident I understand; however not when it happens in this house. Nothing that happens in this house ever follows the conventional norms of the wider society. When George wee’s the bed he may be sitting on his bed, but it doesn’t mean that it is his own bed he is weeing in.
You see at the moment he is a little fascinated by the range he can achieve with his urine stream. He was practicing this particular talent during the week while stood next to some bushes. At this point I’d like it to be understood that I don’t actively encourage George to wee wherever he likes. I have learnt valuable lessons when he dropped his pants in the middle of Peony’s play ground to wee, oh and the time he wee’d on a little boys sandcastle that George needs to learn that we ALWAYS use a toilet!! However this week has been eventful and in the aid of getting him to the car quickly we did have a little wee in a bush.
I was woken this morning at 05.30 by peony screaming like she was being murdered. I flew out of bed in a panic to be confronted by this scene, let me set the picture for you. George totally naked is lying on his bed, watching his ipad with a cascade of wee shooting over to Peony’s bed. Peony who is woken by wee to the head screams blue murder that she is covered in wee. George says his usual sorry and carries on watching his ipad as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening here.
It wouldn’t have been so bad if this wasn’t George’s only incident with fluids this week, but as I said we’ve had a full on week.
I am still trying really hard at Peony’s school to seamlessly blend in despite George’s best efforts to get us an ASBO.
This week he yet again ‘borrowed’ a scooter, I however did not know this is what he had done as I was busy retrieving his ipad he had donated to his posse of girls in year 5. Considering last year I was offended when someone suggested I rarely knew where George is half the time, she was in fact bang on with that assessment of my parenting to be honest.
So I go running in to the school thinking he might have gone to the toilet, which is often where I find him. Wheel spinning round the corridor I bump in to the head teacher, who helpfully says she will help me find him. Our search was interrupted by a concerned parent saying George was making his way round to the 4+ classroom on the ‘borrowed’ scooter, and had run her daughter over during his escaped. She signalled for me to come quick as George had found something else that was providing his entertainment.
Running round the back of the school, where parents are walking the 4 year olds to school, George has found an unsupervised connected hosepipe. There he is stood with it on full blast creating a wall of parents unwilling to pass.
I approached with caution, as I (along with many other victims) have come off worse when faced by George and a hose. I still had another school run to do, and George’s school did not need to see me looking like a creature that had just walked from the swamp.
In my firmest voice I could muster, trying desperately to hide the smile from my face that was threatening to signal to George that I found this funny and in his code for this means play.
To my shock and of those around us he handed me the hose nicely, and the only thing that was flooded was the path children had to walk down. Telling him that he needed to get back to his sisters, who I had left goodness knows where, he promptly reminded me he had to take back to ‘borrowed’ scooter. He can do the right thing at time, he even returned to the girl he had collided with and apologised again for nearly hindering her ability to walk.
Wednesday we had swimming lessons, this always fills me with anxiety, probably as much as it does to their swimming teacher. This week George actually did really well; he listened, he cooperated, and did as he was told!!
Wednesday was a really sunny day, making poolside unbearably hot, the disabled changing room was worse still. It was that hot I couldn’t get the kiddies dry; they remained clammy. Giving it up as a bad job, I pealed George’s pyjamas on to him, however they were rucked up. The top was exposing his tummy; one leg was pulled up above his knee. He looked a right duckie I promise you.
Coming out of the changing rooms thinking once outside I can straighten up his clothes, George runs out of reception and goes in through the opened side door to the studio and joins in with the same kettlebell class he has done before. Thankfully the instructor is a good friend and was totally accepting of George’s participation. The reception area was really busy so I found pushing my way through difficult and people looked at me like I was the rudest person in the world as I hit them with my swimming bag. Finally making it in to the studio, I see George stood at the front dancing his heart out in the mirrors next to the instructor in his poorly fitting pyjamas. Best of it was everyone was carrying on with their exercise like this is becoming to norm now and it possibly could be a welcomed distraction from the pain kettle bells causes.
It’s probably pretty clear to say that I have said sorry a lot this week!!!!