Page 32 of Pucked Up Plans
“No one’s mad. It was an accident. You were sleeping.” It’s all I can do to reassure her everything’s okay.
Somehow she got it in her head—thanks to Megan’s mother—good girls never pee their pants, even when they’re sleeping. On the occasional chance it happens, she thinks she’s going to be punished.
I could strangle Joanne for ever putting that ludicrous idea in her head.
Tate’s back, a new set of clothes in her hands. “Here you go, Lennon. Some of Aubrey’s favorite clothes for you.” She leaves them next to me, retreating a few steps, giving Lennon space.
“Thank you,” I mouth.
I don’t coerce Lennon to move. I’m sure it can’t feel comfortable to sit in wet undies and pants, but I allow her the time she needs to process what happened and feel better.
After several minutes, she pulls her head away again. “You’re not mad?”
I shake my head. “I’m not mad.”
Narrowing her eyes, she’s not convinced. She looks in Tate’s direction. “I’m sorry, Tate. It was an accident.” Her bottom lip quivers nervously as she waits for Tate’s reaction.
Tate walks over, taking a seat on the floor next to us. “Sweetie, you don’t need to apologize. It was an accident.” She reaches her finger out to Lennon’s face, stopping just shy of touching it, not wanting to cross any boundaries. My heart leaps out to this stranger’s concern for my child. “Daddy can help get you changed so you don’t have to stay in wet clothes. Then maybe you guys can stay and watch another episode of the show.”
Instant relief permeates Lennon’s face. Bobbing her head up and down, she confirms, “My eyes needed a little rest, but they’re better now.” She stands up and wiggles out of her wet clothing.
Along with being brutally honest, my kid’s got no sense of modesty. At least she has the decency to leave her shirt on since it’s not wet.
“Let me get you some wipes.” Tate scurries away. She’s not the least bit embarrassed by any of this. Other women might empathize with my situation, but mothers understand. If ever there was a time for a complete understanding of being a parent, it’s now.
Returning, she hands me the wipes, and I get to work wiping Lennon down. After, she puts on the dry clothes, good as new.
I glance over at the blemish on the couch. Too concerned with Lennon’s emotions to notice, it’s bigger than I first realized.
“This is going to be a bitch to clean up…”
I shouldn’t have worried.
Tate’s there with some sort of spray. She aims it at the couch, spraying the entire affected area before laying a towel over it.
“It’ll be good as new in a few hours. It’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last someone pees on our couch. Right, Bean?”
In all the commotion, I forgot Aubrey was here.
A slight tinge of pink creeps up on Aubrey’s cheeks. With a lift of her tiny shoulders, she murmurs, “Accidents happen.”
We all share a laugh.
Once Lennon seems okay, Tate turns the show back on for the girls, setting them up next to each other on the dry cushion of the couch. Kissing Lennon’s head, she shifts her eyes from the TV.
“I’m better, Dad. I’ll be okay.” She’s got my shirt wrapped around her, the added comfort and warmth helping her to feel better.
Back in the kitchen, I slump in the seat, my adrenaline crashing. Needing an energy boost, I grab the muffin, stuffing it in my mouth, carbs be damned. Tate pushes an unopened bottle of water my way.
“What do you sweeten these with?” I ask after I’ve washed the muffin down with a big gulp of water.
“Pure maple syrup. I’d love to say it’s because I want to be healthy, but it’s because Aubrey hates sugar.” My brows lift for the second time today. Tate raises her hands in the air. “It’s the oddest thing. What kid doesn’t like sugar, right? The same one who eats chili, tofu, and kale chips.”
“Wow,” I admit, at a loss for something more intelligent. “What do you bribe her with to be good if she doesn’t eat sweets?”
The pee on the couch didn’t bother Tate, but my comment hits a chord. I shouldn’t ever be surprised my daughter speaks the way she does.
Pot, meet kettle.
