Dough Bowl and Poopy Bum

Oh, Sunbeams. They sure know how to make a Sunday fun. Every week is a new adventure; sometimes every minute. Take today: There were only two of them, Max and Della, but that was all it took to keep things fun from beginning to end.

From Beginning:

The lesson was on families so I brought some of my family photos to help me explain how people are related. They LOVED looking at those. As Max studied one picture he would glance up at me then concentrate back down on the photo, up at me, back down, and on and on. After about a half a minute of this he announced, "You're DOUGH bowl!"

When he talks I usually get this mental image of his tongue doggie paddling through an ocean of saliva. It's exhausted. At any moment a wave will crash down upon it and all will be over; there will be saliva everywhere and Max will never speak again. However, it had been three weeks since I last taught the class and in that short amount of time it was if his tongue had learned a simple stroke that gave him a fighting chance against small waves. Despite the improvements, I had no idea what he meant. I smiled at him and he went back to studying the picture. He glanced at me and back at the photo then stated, "Yeah, you're DOUGH bowl."

I had no clue what he was getting at so I asked, "Max what does that mean?"

He pried his eyes from the picture to give me a look that said, "Are you stupid?" then responded, "You know... DOUGH bowl."

Nope, not at all (the only thing I could think of was that he thought I was either pale or squishy like dough - maybe both). Instead of pushing the matter I replied, "Oooh, okay."

He seemed satisfied and went back to studying the picture. Right then Della piped in, "You do look adorable!" That's what he was telling me! Thank goodness 4-year-olds understand one another so I could appreciate what Max was trying to tell me.

I have a feeling that if he ever gets a handle on the whole speaking thing he's going to be a little heart breaker.

To End:

Towards the end of the lesson Della announced, "I need to go poopy!" Lesson over. I thought it was best not to wait so the three of us headed to the women's restroom. Max didn't need to go so he paced back and forth and slid along the wall. Then, two things happened at once: Max decided to open and close the main door to the bathroom while Della decided to give us a very loud play-by-play of her efforts to relieve herself

"Doo-da-doo. . . I still have to go poopy!"

grunting

"This is going to take a while!"

grunting

"I'm still not done!"

more grunting

"Whoa! This is a BIIIIG one!"

I'm trying to get both of them to alter what they're doing ("Max, come keep me company"; "Della, inside voice, please") when the future sports broadcaster announces she is done and takes me by surprise:

"I need you to wipe my bum! I don't know how."

What? Did I hear that correctly?

"You can come in now. I unlocked the door but don't let Max in. . . MAX! STAY THERE! YOU CAN'T COME IN!"

Unfortunately, I had heard correctly and was now faced with the task of wiping a four-year-old's poopy bum. I've never had to do that in my life and had no desire to do it at that moment. When I agreed to substitute for the regular teacher she did not mention that this was part of the job. When I taught the class for a six week stretch earlier this summer I NEVER had to wipe anyone's rear end that whole time. I wasn't quite sure what to do so I said the first thing I thought of (outside of "Your mom and dad are both just around the corner in the Primary room. With Max opening and closing the door they probably know their child needs her bum wiped. Why aren't they coming to help?"). I said, "Okay, Della, can you hold your dress up and stand?"

"NO!" she replied. "I'm going to hold your leg!"

Still seated on the toilet she leaned forward, practically folding herself in half, and put my leg in a death grip. She did all this before I even had time to react to what she had said. The next thing I knew I was losing circulation to my right leg and trying to reposition myself to accomplish the task at hand without making her fall from her perch (not easy to do with a child latched to your leg).

A few wipes later and I was no longer able to claim that I had never wiped a poopy bum. I said the magic words, "All done." She released her hold on my leg, jumped off the toilet, pulled up her panties and left the stall. She left me to flush the toilet.