My strategy to get my four-year-old down for a nap yesterday and then do some writing while he slumbered peacefully didn’t work.
Even now, as I try to finish this post, he is saying, “Daddy, daddy, daddy, I have to go potty.”
I’m writing this in the Vassar library, so I abandon my computer and the blog and search for a restroom. He moans and says, “We’re lost down here. I’m going to pee myself.”
“No, you’re not. We aren’t lost. Breathe.” But I can’t find the men’s room.
There is a women’s restroom right near the stairs. I knock. No answer. I stand in the doorway, afraid to enter the women’s restroom. “Hurry and go quickly,” I say.
He jumps and skips and scurries his way to the toilet. I hear him relieving himself and then he sighs. “Whew,” he says.
“Wash your hands.” He turns the water on full-blast and runs his hands through the water. He wipes his hands on his shirt.
We run back upstairs. The library is empty so my blog is safe. I try to finish this post.
“Go back to your computer and play.”
30 seconds pass, maybe less.
He says, “Daddy, my computer, the computer, the computer over there is not working, um, it’s not changing to the kite thing again where Curious George is flying his kite, I need you to help me.” He clicks on it and it changes into a game where George is collecting hats.
He can’t work the mouse yet, so I have to help him. We collect orange and green hats. We play again. We collect green and red hats. I say, “Now you practice.” I sit back down to finish this post. Two seconds later he says, “Daddy, daddy I want to go see Momma now.” He’s sucking his fingers. He’s been playing with a mouse used by hundreds of college students.
His immune system is getting stronger I say to myself. A slight shudder passes through me.
“Sit down for a minute until I finish this post.”