So I'm in a waiting room with my two wonderful children. It's a waiting room we have been in many times.
Emma finds the restroom and grabs my hand to bring me to the sink to wash her hands. She loves washing her hands (read: playing in the bubbles). We wash her hands and I help her down off the stool, where she discovers, to her immense delight, that she is now tall enough to reach the light switch. I recognize the opportunity to practice her new "on" and "off" sign language, so she gets to play with the light switch a couple of times.
Then I tell her it's time to be all done.
We walk back out to the waiting room and I close the door.
She walks back over to the door and tries to open it. She fails.
She signs to me: "Open!"
I sign back: "No. All done."
She is not giving up. She walks over to me and tries to drag me to the door. I sign: "Stop. No"
She stops, but is still not giving up. She looks back at the restroom door, and thinks for a moment about how to get back into that magical place with BOTH a light switch AND a bubbly water table to play in.
She looks at me intently and signs "potty"
She then summons all her strength and concentration ... and manages the most hysterical TOOT I have ever heard in my life.
Triumph! With a huge smile, she signs "potty" again, this time grabbing my hand, which is her way of communicating that she "NEEDS" a diaper change.
I sigh. I concede defeat. To the sound of her glorious laughter, I pretend to change the not-so-dirty diaper, and then lift her back down to the floor. With a strut that would put the winner of any professional sport to shame, she swaggers her sassy self right on over to the sink. She turns around, grins, and signs: "Help. Up"
Because now we need to wash our hands
And then we'll have to turn off the light.
Emma = 1 Mommy = 0