Namine and I have a nightly routine. I give her a bath and she gets to play for a while (just how long depends on how early she gets in) – sometimes she wants me to play with her, sometimes not – she takes her medicine, we pray with Jessica, and she goes potty. Then it’s off to bed. Tonight, just after getting off the potty, Namine showed me once again what a sense of humor she has.

When Namine sits on her potty, she tends to not pay much attention to when she’s done. She knows when she’s done, she just won’t tell me. So occasionally I have to ask, as I did tonight, “Namine, are you done yet?”

“Notchet, Haha.”

“Okay, just tell me when you are.”

“Awright. Okay, I’m done now!”

It is my unglorious duty, I suppose one would say, to help Namine wipe. But I don’t mind; I think it’s awesome that Namine can go potty at all, and I consider this (perhaps mundane) task as just part of being a father. Maybe I’ll let myself think I’m doing a good job of it.

After Namine was all wiped, I put a fresh diaper on her. As soon as I started to fasten the little sticky tabs, Namine told me, “Haha, I still got toilet paper on my bum!” (She just cracks me up. She calls her butt her bum, and don’t you dare suggest to her that it’s called anything else.)

“Oh, sorry.” I unfastened her diaper and looked. I didn’t see anything. I did, however, see a crazy grin on my daughter.

“I kidding!” She cackled wildly.

What a ham.

Husband. Daddy. Programmer. Artist. I'm not an expert, I just play one in real life.
  • Jessica Eiche

    This morning when I changed Namine, when she got up, I started laughing and said you really did have toilet paper stuck to your bum. She said uh-huh.