Every day, Mackenzie drops an unexpected new word. Or two. I am quickly approaching the point where I can no longer use my “driving words” – those lovely little four-letter words that express the deep seated rage you can only feel when some yahoo cuts you off and slows freeway traffic to 45.   The kid can hear a word once, and two weeks later repeat it perfectly, almost as though she’s been practicing it inside her head and waiting for the perfect time to finally speak it in a tiny toddler squeak.  (So I’m probably already screwed. )

It’s unclear where she learns most of her words and phrases.  Tonight, in an attempt to get out of her pyjamas and escape bedtime, she told her dad, “I need a new diaper! I’m soaking! I peed everywhere!”  Home girl was bone dry. But “I’m soaking” was definitely a new one.  This was almost as good as the time she announced, “Follow me. I’m the leader,” in such a blasé tone I almost dropped my latte.

So I was not particularly surprised when she dragged her pink step ladder to the middle of the room, ascended, raised both hands to the heavens, and declared, “The show must go on!”   Of course, Mini-Me is a tiny ENFP, so she was on to her next endeavour before I could make her elaborate about what kind of show she meant.  I got my answer around 2:35 this afternoon.

I was in for a [insert driving word here] show, people.  A mama-flippin [driving word] show.  Literally.

M woke up 20 minutes into her nap just as I was getting in the shower, wept inconsolably until I took her in with me, and when I snuck out early to towel off, she dropped a deuce in my shower.

Let’s cut the crap for a second here. Last night, I scrubbed that shower. That shower got it’s first honest to goodness, full strength dose of elbow grease since we moved in. And today, after we both slept like – well – crap, she decided to defile my pristine shower.  I only have driving words to express my exasperation. There is no justice in this world.

What’s more, she politely slid the glass door open and said – I kid you not – “Excuse me, mommy. There’s poop in this shower.” And then she slid the door shut.

What do you even say to that?

As I attempted to parent on about 3 hours of sleep, wrangling a nap-skipping toddler, I struggled to summon any of the empathy I had reflected on in my last post.  Instead, all I could think of was the tiny little voice, speaking with such conviction and truth this morning.

The show must go on. 

And also a few driving words.