A few weeks ago Rhema had a neurology appointment. She was hyper seeking a lot of sensory input. I chased her around the waiting room as she hurdled chairs (with people sitting in them), jumped on the table, and tossed children’s books on the floor. Thankfully, Hope was content to read each book Rhema tossed on the floor with a “Don’ frow things, Rhema!”
Rhema was walking across the tops of chairs when she walked over a man innocently reading his newspaper.
I rushed over. “I’m sorry,” I said to him. He nodded, not looking up from his paper.
“Rhema. Sit. Down.”
Rhema sat down.
In the chair next to Newspaper Man.
I went over to Hope who was still “reading” on the floor. I looked over to Rhema and saw that she had casually placed her hand on Newspaper Man’s thigh. She was humming to herself.
Just as I was heading back over to Rhema, Hope stood and announced to the occupants of the waiting room with deep conviction:
“I pooped in my diaper.”
The sudden odor in the room supported her claim.
Instantly she had me by the hand and was dragging me toward the bathroom (the opposite direction of Rhema).
Just then Rhema hawked a huge sneeze. She caught the wad in her hands.
The rest of the scene unfolded in slow mo.
Rhema opened her hands, peered curiously at her green wad of snot and then slowly began rubbing her hands together. Because she’s been practicing hand-washing, you see. And this is what you do.
Then she opened her hands and inspected them. She methodically licked the remaining snot off her palms.
Oh no, I thought.
I was already running towards her even though I knew it was too late.
She happily placed her right hand on Newspaper Man’s thigh and resumed humming.