Ainsley is four and is what I would call eighty percent potty trained. Most of the time she is successful in keeping her clothing dry all day with occasional accidents. Poops that hit the toilet first and leave no skid marks (or worse) on the underwear are cause for celebration. In fact, we give her a quarter every time she is accomplishes this amazing trick. I am so tired of rinsing dirty underwear in the toilet before putting them in the washing machine, that I decided to replace the really icky undies last week. As a special incentive to get her to "listen to her body", I bought Ainsley a set of days-of-the-week underpants.
Right away she recognized the word Saturday. When she saw that pair, she remembered that on Saturday she would be going to her friend Sebastian's birthday party at the fire station.
"I am going to wear my Saturday panties to Sebastian's party. He'll be so excited to see me in them!" she said in her most gleeful Dora the Explorer voice.
"Uh, Ainsley. . .I don't think it's appropriate for you to tell Sebastian about your special panties. Just say, 'Happy Birthday,' tell him you're happy to see him, and leave it at that," I said with one eyebrow raised.
"Mom, why can't I tell Sebastian about my Saturday panties?"
I stammered: "Uhhhh.....mmmmmm......well....he won't be able to see them, so why bring it up?"
"Yes, he will! I'll show them to him!" she proudly announced.
"Honey, it's not a good idea to show your friends your panties. That's why we wear them under our clothes and not on the outside."
"O. K." she said, kinda disappointed.
Every day after that she went to her underwear drawer to make sure the Saturday ones were still there. Last night after her bath, she finally got to put them on. By this time, she was referring to them as her "Sebastian party panties". I was beginning to wonder if I should put her on birth control now or wait until the Saturday panties are missing and turn up in the back seat of Sebastian's mother's minivan between the booster seats. I know kids are starting younger these days, but this is freaking ridiculous!
Honestly, my biggest fear was not that my daughter would show her undies to the birthday boy or any other child. I was terrified that she would show them to every fire fighter in the station and provide a lengthy explanation of the entire set that was back at our house. And she would. Believe me. Get a little pizza in her, some icing off the cake, and that girl goes wild with the talking.
This morning the tension was mounting as Ainsley dressed for the party and Steve and Ian began negotiating breakfast. Steve suggested cereal.
"Nrt nrt!" responded our son loudly. This is Pengu (the penguin on PBS Sprout) for "no, thanks", "no way", or "get out of my face before I pummel you", depending on the voice inflection. Both Ian and Ainsley think it's really cool to pretend to be Pengu, his sister Penga, and their friend Robby the Seal and communicate this way. It drives me bonkers, which they also think is hilarious.
"Nrt nrt!" echoed Ainsley from the balcony above.
Steve shot a look to both of them and continued making suggestions for Ian's breakfast, all of which were followed by "nrt nrt". Ian punched Steve lightly in the back side and below the belt with his final "nrt nrt". Steve turned around and asked,
"On what planet is is o.k. for you to punch me there?"
Very calmly Ian replied, "On the planet Uranus."
As Steve tried desperately not to laugh at Ian's joke, Ainsley went running for the bathroom. She had waited just a few seconds too long to make it to the potty, and the bright pink Saturday skivvies had, well. . .you know. There wasn't enough time to wash and dry them before the birthday party. Wearing nondescript undergarments, Ainsley approached the event with a little less enthusiasm and, fortunately, no discussion of what she was wearing under her shorts.
Later in the afternoon, I retrieved the mail. There was a brightly colored package for Ian. He always gets extremely excited when something comes addressed directly to him.
We opened the outer envelope, and the inner envelope to find a lengthy note and a little tin box. Ian opened the box, unwrapped several pieces of tissue paper, and found in the middle a small black rock."It looks like a fossilized piece of poop," he observed candidly.
"Well, it could be," I remarked. "Shall we read the letter and see what we can learn about it?"
It was from my dear friend, Mary. The note said there was a treasure inside the box - a type of meteor called a tektite! It was found after an extensive search near the water tower on the outskirts of the city where Ian was born. His eyes grew bigger as I continued reading the letter.
"Maybe [someday] your parents will show you the water tower. The area is all grass-covered now, and there are houses all around what was once rugged terrain, but underneath all that there may still be undiscovered tektites. . .
I hope you'll enjoy learning about tektites, Ian. I'm happy knowing that you now have the very first one found by my family. There's no one else on this entire planet I'd rather give it to but you!"
Ian was feeling especially proud at this point. "Wow!" he said. "And I can keep it safe in this box, all to myself, and not let anyone else touch it!"
"I want to hold it! I want to hold it!" said Ainsley, jumping up and down.
"Ainsley, it has to stay in this box so it will be safe," Ian replied, holding the tiny nugget and it's tin house close to his chest.
I continued reading the letter:
"I also hope you'll let Ainsley hold it and examine it, too, whenever she wants to. I'm sure you'll keep it safe and maybe someday pass it along to a special friend. . .or not. That's up to you!"
"Ian some things are meant to be shared. Mary wants you to share this with Ainsley. I'm sure she will take good care of it while it's in her hands," I encouraged.
"O. K., Ainsley, but just for a minute. I don't want anything to happen to it."
Ainsley cupped the black stone in her hand as if it were a wounded baby bird. The two of them walked slowly, side-by-side, into the living room, sat down on the couch, and placed it gingerly back in the box.
Ian spent some time on the computer with Steve, researching tektites and learning more about his treasure. Later he told me it was really old - at least 5 years, maybe more. He seemed overwhelmed by the enormity of the cosmic forces that brought this hard black chunk to earth as he quietly contemplated the significance of the contents of the tin. Or maybe he was just being thankful that it wasn't a piece of fossilized poop. Either way, the space rock is currently tucked in bed with Ian, next to his pillow.
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