There are moments in life. Key moments that transition us to our next state of being. For me, that was today when we took the toddler shopping to buy “big girl knickers.” This is something the toddler has wanted for a while, but toilet training was still a thing and if it wanted actual underwear instead of a nappy, then it had to prove it knew what it was doing in the down below feelings. So over the last 3 days, the toddler has been going to the potty and running back for high-fives and to take us to have a look at the various deposits left therein. It’s actually been a bit exciting with all the cheering and hand slapping and the beaming face of a small person who managed to take a dump in a vessel to feel as though it conquered the world. The toddler wakes up excited so it can go and have a piss on the potty and prove itself once more.
It has the hang of it now, so much so in fact that it lifted the potty to empty it down the toilet. I was walking by at the time, grumbling about running out of peanuts when I spotted it on its toes trying to deliver the pee into the toilet bowl. I said to the wife – “It’s trying to empty its own potty in the loo.”
“Don’t worry, it’s not going to make any more mess on the floor than you do.”
The toddler empties most of the potty on the floor.
“It emptied all of it on the floor,” says I.
“Just like you,” retorts the wife as she shrugs.
“That’s not fair, it’s usually dark when that happens.”
“I manage not to piss on the floor,” is her comeback.
“But you don’t have a huge hose hanging off the front of you.”
“Neither do you.” The silence slid between us like Merlin’s dragon and she never broke eye contact. It was at this moment I turned and went back to my office.
So – back to the knicker buying. I can honestly say there have been way less than a few times in my life that I’ve found myself buying knickers for a girl. But today that changed. There I was in a serious discussion with the toddler about whether it preferred Peppa Pig undies or the ones with the Unicorns, or how about PJ Masks or these pony idiots. Then – the greatest thing happened – it pointed at a set of pajamas with a Storm Trooper on them and I knew beyond any doubt I was raising it the right way. As I was patting myself on the back and off searching for girl undies with Darth Vader on them – the wife blindsided me and bought a pack of rainbow knickers instead.
So now the afternoon has been one of watching a very proud toddler person prancing around in its underwear and running off to the potty when it needs a pee or when it needs to pretend to pee so it can simply drop it new knickers and pull them back up again when finished. I’ve been there. I was high at the time, but I’ve been there. It also performed the dance the wife did in the Christmas show to much applause from myself and the wife. I had no idea it was the dance the wife did in the Christmas show until the wife informed me. I just thought the toddler was being awesome but now I know the toddler is even more awesome than the awesome I thought it was. They grow up so fast.
The toddler has its own magpie army. I don’t mean thumbless, toothless unevolved football supporters either (I kid, I kid.) The toddlers nannytier (my mum,) has magpies at her house among the thousands of other critters that her and the toddler feed. So when magpies appear the toddler loses its little mind. The story goes as this. Da managed to trick the toddler into a nappy change (before knickers were a thing.) As da was taking off the toddler’s pants, a magpie was sat on our balcony staring at me. I did as any dad would – “Donkey, check out the magpie.”
The toddler sits up fast and looks at it, waves at it and says “da, can we feed him?”
So, we feed him a bit of mince. Then his mates rock up, and we give a little more mince out. Then the wife makes the mistake of leaving me and the toddler alone and da starts feeding the magpies out the window to amuse the toddler. Over several days, da and the toddler have no supervision and put out food for the magpies as we find it fun how many of them we can summon. You know what happens now? Magpies come in to the apartment. Bold as brass. The bastards hop into the apartment through the open balcony door or the open living room window (that we always have open.) I walked into the living room to find 5 of the bastards sitting around the toddler as it watched TV and was half hanging off the couch. One was picking at some crumbs on the floor, another was wrestling to swallow a peanut and I swear the others were watching television with the toddler. I tried to take a picture, but I spooked them. The toddler leads a magpie army.
Another red-letter day happened recently. The toddler and I watched our first movie together. All the way through. Just the two of us as the wife was out street-racing in our Kia or whatever it is she does when out. The movie was Arthur Christmas. It’s a fun movie but I was gutted as I did have a dream it would be Star Wars, the original Karate Kid or Malcolm that would be our first movie. But mainly I was hoping it would be Star Wars. My desire there is hampered also by the wife who won’t watch any Star Wars movies; (I’m trying to get her in to have her head examined) but I still have to live with her.
A week ago (pre-knickers) I changed the toddler on our bed, on my side. It was a particularly full load and some of it got on the sheet, on my side. Bah! Anyway, I wipe it up. It’s a little toddler turd, who cares – I’m sure I’ve tumbled in sheets with a hell of a lot worse in them in my time on this planet. I did live in Queensland for a bit after all and the bugs up there get into everything. But – back to the tale. It’s midnight, I’ve ensured the door is locked, the taps are off, the oven is off, the lights are off and I’m on the way to plug my phone in to charge. As I’m doing all of this, I’m chatting with the wife, making comments on life, various wankers that annoy me and the Universe and how I have toddler poo on my sheet. You know what happens? Siri pipes up from my phone and says – “you’re not happy, are you?” Holy hell. I shit myself and the wife hits hysterical laughter. Siri just hung there, knowing she’d scared the balls off me but amused my wife.
When I finally calmed down, put the phone on charge, kissed the wife goodnight and rolled into the four inches of mattress the toddler allows me, I fell asleep. Then I had a fist in my eyeball and a foot between my ass cheeks – “da, fresh water da.”
Da drags his ass out of bed and fetches the toddler’s water bottle, fills it full of fresh water and comes back to the bedroom to find the toddler and wife sound asleep. The toddler across my side of the bed with its feet on my pillow and the wife in all her pregnant glory snoring like a dinosaur, (a big one.)
I look at them and I smile. They’re perfect and they’re mine.
Danny Matier 