"Role Reversal"

It's bed time. I am sitting in the rocking chair in Juliet's room. Juliet is sitting in her little chair across the room.

"Daddy, I want to stay up until I feel like going to bed. That may be never. It also may be soon. I won't know until I am actually asleep. Can I stay up?"

"No."

"Will you at least get me cookies."

"No."

"Fine," Juliet says. "At the very least, give me your phone so I can play with it until I get frustrated and cry."

"No."

"Why don't you do everything I tell you to?" Juliet asks. "Mommy does everything I tell her to. That's why I love her more."

"Mama?" I ask.

"Yes," Juliet says. "And if you insist on putting me to bed right now, and I hope you'll reconsider, you have to sing to me like Mommy does. You have to sing 'You are My Sunshine' over and over until I tell you to stop. Or until I cry. That means stop."

"Sing?"

"Yes, Daddy. Sing."

"Socks," I say, pointing to Juliet's socks.

"Yes, these are my socks. By the way, this chocolate milk you made me sucks. I only have you make it because I don't want you thinking that you won on the milk issue."

"Bye bye," I say.

I run out of her room and slam the door. I wait, open the door and there is Juliet. Reading "Don't Let the Pigeon Stay Up Late." She looks up.

"Can I have a glass of water?" she asks.

"No."

"Can we watch TV?"

"No."

"Can you at least take the swimmie diaper off your head? It is not a hat."

"No."

"Daddy, you don't get it at all."

And then, when Juliet is at her most frustrated point, I purse my lips and lean towards her. She can't help but smile. It's got nothing to do with me, but she knows I think it does. The truth is that she just pooped. She didn't have to do, but it bought her five more minutes.

What's five minutes in the grand scheme of things?

Back on Track in Black

It's been a while. That's my fault. You didn't beg for more. That's yours. I'm back. Juliet is back. And we're pretty much all growed up. We walk. We talk. We count to ten. We sing the wheels on the bus, when we feel like it. When we don't feel like it, we don't do anything. When we don't like what we're doing, we cry until it stops.

We pooped on the toilet, once. Juliet was in the tub. She felt it coming. It was past the point of no return.

"Mama!" she screamed. "Poop."

Melissa plucked her out of the tub.

"Diapee!!" Juliet screamed.

Melissa held Juliet over the toilet. Juliet dripped and cried. Juliet pooped. Plop.

"Bye bye, poop," she said.

That's what we always say. Bubby taught us to flush the terds instead of putting them in the Diaper Geenie. Juliet's room no longer smells like shit all of the time. It still smells like shit some of the time. As does Melissa's closet. Juliet denies that there is a hidden poop in there somewhere.

"Juliet, did you poopy in Mommy's closet?" we ask her.

"No," she says. Then she says "bye, bye," and runs out of the room laughing, slamming the door behind her. Her behavior is suspect. But we can't find the evidence. She's that good.

She's better than good. She's the best thing in the world. And she's still worth writing about even though it's been more than a year. So, we are back. On track. And in black, but only because that will make everyone think of the AC/DC song. Juliet hates that song. She hates all songs except for the "Hello Song."

Bye, bye, poop.