Brothers and Bathrooms

When Preschooler D was born, Colin took one look at him in the hospital and said, “I don’t want this any more.”

Too bad, kid.  He stays.

Jeremy was staying with us at the time to help out, and I understand he and Colin had some sincere discussions about the benefits of being a big brother.  I’m not sure Colin was convinced.

Now, Preschooler D, like any busy kid, does not like to take the time to stop and go to the bathroom.  He’s had a few accidents lately, and it irritates his mother. Oh . . . I mean me, I guess.

Yesterday he had another accident and in a firm and authoritative voice I told him to march upstairs and find clean pants. He marched — wailing all the way.

Colin came into the kitchen where I was and asked, “Are you mad?”

No, I answered him.  I just want D to understand that he needs to stop and use the bathroom.

A few minutes later I went upstairs prepared to finish the battle with my small son.  I found Colin in the room helping his brother with his pants.  “This happened to me when I was little too.”

D looked up at him and said, “It did?!”

“Yeah, it happens to a lot of people.”

Oh, friends and loved ones, when I am tiny little old lady in the nursing home, I will remember this moment of brotherly comfort passed from oldest brother to middle brother to youngest in a way ol’ mom never ever could.

I still need D to stop and use the bathroom, though . . .

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