when you’re three…

and your name is Carter Long

and you’ve already learned the tough lesson that it’s never a good idea to put stickers on your penis, there’s still a whole world of things to explore and get into. This is what’s been happening in the world of Carter this January.

It’s friday. I’m home with both kiddos. We’ve had a good morning. I hear the buzz of the dryer go off so I lay Eli in the bouncy seat while Carter is playing nearby. Eli is protesting a bit as I pull the clothes out and fold them in the entry way. For a few seconds there is silence and I think, ooh. maybe he’s chilling out. but then the crying resumes with a bit more fervor.
Still, nothing to be alarmed about. A couple of minutes later, with my arms full of freshly folded clothes, I walk back into the living room. I see the bouncy seat.
No baby.

For a split second I stare at the alarmingly vacant bouncy seat.
“I DID put the baby in there, didn’t I?”

And then I hear it.
“I picked the baby up.” declared very proudly by my three year old, with his head cocked to the side and a big grin on his face. I wheeled around and there, laying on his back in the middle of the couch, lays my 5 week old.

I can’t imagine what that had to look like–the mom in me doesn’t even really want to go there. I can’t decide if the moments of silence I heard while folding clothes was the sound of contentment from being picked up or if Eli was suffocating while Carter bear hugged him to transfer him to the couch.
I’m just grateful there was no life altering injury.

Lesson learned.
There’s a safety belt on those things for a reason.
And two minutes or three minutes of alone time, when you’re three (and your name is Carter Long) is an eternity of time to get into big, big trouble.

Another little development that has occurred since bringing Eli home, is occasional accidents for my potty trained toddler. Prior to the birth, Carter wasn’t having any accidents whatsoever. Since that time, they have happened frequently (although this is much better now). As a result, we’ve had lots of conversations about not peeing in one’s pants; Carter has also had to clean up his messes which has not been fun for the little man. About a week ago, Carter was upstairs playing by himself in the play room while Kyle and I were finishing up dinner. I went up at one point and found Carter in his underwear. I asked him why he took his pants off-he mumbled something-but I didn’t really pay too much attention to it because he’s three. Three year olds do strange things like that. A few minutes after that, Kyle went upstairs to play with him. Shortly afterwards, Kyle comes back down the stairs holding a little playdough bucket with a look on his face that he couldn’t replicate today if he tried. Eye contact with the hubs let me know he was amused and annoyed and that no matter what was in the bucket I shouldn’t laugh because someone was listening and needed to be reprimanded. I glance inside and there, sloshing around, is a few inches of fresh toddler pee.
Carter, following stark naked behind his daddy, once again declares very proudly
“I didn’t pee in my pants!!”
No.
No, you didn’t.