We spent Christmas Day at our friend’s house and had a great time.
Clara opened a few gifts waiting for her under their tree, Charlie got passed around from person to person quite a bit, and Clara had her infamous poop with our friend Phil.
At the end of dinner, Phil appeared in the dining room and told us our daughter had just taken him by the hand to the bathroom for a poop.
Mind you, Clara doesn’t know Phil all that well. She has seen him about three times in her entire life, and she doesn’t know his name.
Nevertheless, she needed to poop, saw Phil passing by in a hallway, and asked him to take her to the bathroom.
Phil asked if he should get Elysha or me, but Clara said no. He could take her.
We couldn’t believe it. We still can’t believe it.
Like every other time I have taken Clara to the bathroom, she demanded that Phil “cuddle” her while she sat on the toilet, and as always, she demanded silence, too. Even praise upon completion of the bathroom process is frowned upon by my daughter.
When she finished, she left the bathroom, but not before introducing herself to Phil: “I’m Clara.”
Elysha and I were in tears as we listened to this story. We still laugh when we think about it today. We are also slightly terrified about what might happen the next time she needs to use the bathroom and stumbles upon someone other than Elysha or me, but thankfully, she is becoming more and more independent by the day.
There will come a day (soon, I hope) when she will no longer require simultaneous cuddles and silence from me and Elysha (and strangers) while taking care of her business.
That’s one piece of growing up that I won’t mind a bit.
