A few nights ago, I had gone to bed miserable with the flu. Sometime shortly after 1:30 in the morning, I woke up to find Philip checking on the girls, and discovering that our one particular daughter had wet the bed. "Already??" I exclaimed. I lay there listening as Philip gently woke the wet child and broke the news to her: "You're soaked." He got her up, gave her a bath, scrubbed and dried her place in bed, then tucked her back in with a snuggle and a kiss and a warm, dry blanket. We all drifted off to sleep and all was dry and happy.
Until about 5 hours later. Philip had gotten up to go to work, but had just gotten the call that due to the rain, start time was delayed. Yes! He could come back to bed for an hour! One cozy, rainy morning hour of extra sleep. Before he came back to bed he checked on the girls...and found that our child had once again soaked herself. "She wet the bed again!" I heard him whisper in astonishment. So once again, he gently woke up the poor, wet child and broke the news. "You wet the bed". Any irritation or frustration I had felt toward the child melted away the moment I heard her surprised and very disappointed-in-herself response: "I did?! Again?!" She seemed so frustrated with herself as she stumbled towards the bathroom, the only thing I could feel towards her was pity. I was impressed by Philip's kind attitude as he went through the routine all over again... warm bath, clean clothes, scrub bed, snuggle, kiss, "goodnight"... all the while his precious extra time to sleep was quickly slipping away.
|Cute, but... don't even THINK about drinking all that water before bed.|