Sunday, 27 February 2011

Like Mother, Like Daughter?

The Husband often talks about how the kids have inherited both the very best of us and the very worst of us. Obviously the worst being mainly from him, but I like to play along by suggesting that The Tweenager gets his stubbornness from me and, erm, perhaps The Toddler's self-centredness might be a teenie bit me too.

But I have to admit that The Tomboy's not so favourable characteristic seems to be definitely me, without a doubt. You see when I was little I had a short stint in hospital because I kept wetting myself. I was five. This was much to the horror of my mother (whose pride probably ended there) although still to this day she reckons I was potty trained at six months.
Anyway, The Tomboy will not ever never go for a wee. In the way that a camel can store water, The Tomboy can store wee for days and days. Just in case she is stranded in a desert and needs an emergency drink perhaps. Apparently the kidneys of the camel are very efficient at retaining water too and urine comes out gloopy. Which is interesting because when The Tomboy does eventually do a wee, it resembles a thick syrup.

In the morning when everybody in the world heads immediately for the toilet, The Tomboy insists that she does not need a wee. This enrages The Husband, not because she doesn't do anything, but because I ask and ask and ask "Has she done a wee yet? Has she done a wee?"
Normal practice is for me to drop her at school without so much as a tiny tinkle.
When I pick her up at 3.15pm, The Tomboy is always looking rather peaky but strangely seems to be quite vigorous in her movements. I say "Did you do a wee today? Do you need a wee?" and she always shakes her head.
At home, the dancing continues and she often sits funny on a chair. Anyone can tell that she is just bursting for a wee and yet she makes no move towards the bathroom.
At about 4.30pm, usually when I want her to switch off the telly and do a bit of homework, she will shriek "I need a wee!!! I need a wee!!!" at which point she dashes to the loo as if her life depends on it. And it probably does.

I have talked and questioned and even threatened The Tomboy. I have told her that if she doesn't do a wee then she will have to go to hospital like mummy did. I have explained that if she holds it in then her tummy will likely explode. None of this is making any difference.

I don't think she is ill. I think it is pretty much the same reason why I ended up in hospital for bladder checks at age five. The hospital were very quick to discover that my wetting was down to the fact that I just couldn't be bothered to go for a wee. The Husband reckons my laziness obviously started then from childhood and unfortunately The Tomboy is heading the same way. And that's certainly not in the direction of the toilet.

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