So Smug

The words were still hanging there in the air, swirling above my self-satisfied smug little head.

Yeah, she's been doing great.

Accident free all weekend, a few small accidents this week.

And so far, no accidents at all out in public.

My friend congratulated me and told me how impressed she was. This was a major compliment, as she is an amazing mom, who is due in less than two weeks with kiddo number two. Yes, she has had bumps in the road and she and her 4.5 year old don't always see eye-to-eye. But she is calm, self-assured, always has an answer when I need it, and has raised a very smart, sweet, sassy daughter.

So there my smugness was, floating above my head, when I heard from somewhere inside the depths of the mammoth tree exhibit:

Mommy I peepee my undies.

My undies peepeed Mommy.

And there she stood in the tunnel two stories above me with soaking wet incredibly cute, pink, corduroy pants.

I told her to come down to me. She ran. I called her three more times. She had no response.

So I did what I had to do.

I climbed up the tree structure.

I crawled through the tunnels and rope bridges (holy, claustrophobia) and I went in search of my pee soaked offspring.

I never tracked her down up there, and after crawling and stooping and slightly hyperventilating, I made back down the ground and found my darling.

I marched her to the bathroom ignoring her endless chorus of

Why? Why? Why? Whhhhyyyy? Are you happy Mommy? Are you happy? A little bit happy Mommy?

and plopped her on the toilet, armed with new undies, clean pants and a finite amount of patience.

She had peed so much that her sock and shoe were wet. I could have wrung out her incredibly cute, pink, corduroy pants.

So I answered her questions in a hard whisper:

Because you kept playing when you knew you had to go peepee.

Because you didn't come when I asked you to.

Because I was bragging and now look a little foolish.

Because you are a big girl and you know better.

And No, I am not. Nope. Not even a little bit.

One pair of dry pants and the same wet sock and shoe later we reviewed the expectations around potty and went back to play. Her excitedly, me a bit embarrassed.

My friend chuckled and smirked, not in an smug way, just in a "I've been in your shoes" kind of way.

I felt it was my duty to remind her that in another 2.5 years, she'll be in my shoes again.