Swamplandia

Poor Elijah and Luca.  Born with the Hamann bladder.  Once, my father forced a busload of tourists to pull over on a major highway with the threat of, “Either I pee out there or in here.”

It’s made potty training tougher than usual.  About once a weekend, Luca will come strolling up to me completely soaked in his front privates.  When probed (verbally), seems just as surprised as I am.

It’s worse for Eli, who really should not be wearing a diaper to bed every night.  But don’t blame him.  Blame my DNA.  It’s not like he wants to wet the bed, it’s just how he was made.

When we first moved into our grand purple house, Eli announced that he would be waking up to go pee in the middle of the night from now on.  Great.  Cool.  But unfortunately, his flesh was weak. 

Nightly, after dreams of that giant red bucket at the Skokie Water Park, Elijah would soak his bed thoroughly.  Most nights not noticing until his sheets and blankets had fermented into a Chardonnay. 

This, combined with the recent summer like conditions, have caused the boys’ room to take on a distinctive swamp-like air.

That’s fine and dandy for them.  They’re used to it.  But as you recall, Luca is in a phase where he needs me to lie down with him precisely at 3am.  

I half expect to see a frog playing banjo singing “Rainbow Connection” every time I enter.

So tonight, I applied another nighttime diaper to Elijah. It ripped, being around three sizes too small him, but we both shrugged it off and he said, “Can I have a glass of water?”

Of course you can.