And then I feel warmth.
I hear trickling.
I am getting peed on.
Now this is not a new occurrence or even a shocking one.
My reaction? To try and save our carpet (why?) by catching it in my hands. CATCHING IT IN MY HANDS. As I held the pee now leaking through my feeble attempt as a potty, I thought...exactly when did THIS become my reaction?
Soon I was changing out of my at home uniform (pj pants) into more of the same and I thought about my reaction. It seems that I have moved slowly but surely from shock at the expulsion of bodily fluids, to the acceptance and even clever MacGyver-type actions to save it from totally ruining my house.
It's a hope I have.
**Updated to Add: I forgot to describe my verbal reaction to this lovely event. I LAUGHED. I sat there with a yellow pool in my hands, helpless to keep Owen from rolling over and dragging his shooter across the floor. Although I guess the sight of his dear mother laughing her fool head off was enough to keep him planted where he was. Thank goodness.**