Wet Pants, Nosebleeds and Feed the Baby

There are (surprise!!!!) other things going on besides chasing Bob.

Most of the kids don't require as much effort as Bob. And since Bob is only twice a week right now, most days are calm and fun for all of us. Which isn't to say there aren't a lot of bumps in the road.


We're getting ready to start our Halloween crafty stuff. I've found a few new projects to go with the usual ones we do in October. Q tip skeletons and construction paper sliced pumpkins (I'll have to show you a pic). Also, like last year, the company gives us a pumpkin and a deadline and expects participation in a pumpkin decorating contest. No carving. Just paint or other decorations. Many ideas out there.

The voting happens on social media, and really what that means is that the biggest program wins because all the families and kids will vote for their own, not worrying about which one is the best.

I really don't care about winning the contest, I just hate the idea of forced participation.

Ah well.

I told you about Olivia.
She's funny every day. She says something hilarious every afternoon, I swear.

She gets deeply involved in playing.

LEGO, the dollhouse area, dramatic play area, art table.

She doesn't want to leave to go to the bathroom, so she wets her pants. When I notice that her pants are wet, I call her aside and tell her that she needs to go change her clothes.

"Why?"

"Because you forgot to go to the bathroom and your pants are wet."

"No they're not."

"Olivia. You know I can see you, right? Your pants are wet. It's okay, you just need to change your clothes.

"I don't have any other clothes."

Well, she does. Her parents pack her clean clothing every day.
They know she has pee accidents. And she's able to change her own clothing, unlike some of the smalls I've cared for. She just doesn't want to leave her activities long enough to do it. So I send her to her backpack and she discovers every time that I was right. There are clean clothes in there.

I'm working on reminding her when she comes back in those clean clothes that it took her longer to go change and bag up the wet pants than it would have taken to just go to the restroom when she needed to go.

Sometimes she's not hilarious, though. On Wednesday, she stumbled across the room from the construction zone, blood pouring from her nose. She sat down at the snack table and started spitting huge splatters of blood across the floor.

My assistant for the day was the company VP. She immediately began grabbing tissues, gloves, our school-approved disinfectant spray and calmly mopping up. I moved the trash can closer to Olivia and told her to please spit in there instead of on the floor. There was so much blood that she had to spit it out, it was just... flowing like a river.

I sat next to her, handing her tissues. I called her mom, but she did not answer the phone. That's the second time I've called her with the same result, by the way. But I start by identifying myself and saying clearly, "This is not an emergency." So it wasn't urgent, it was a notification call. We did catch up with each other later and she apologized for not being able to answer at the moment.

It's a hereditary thing, apparently. Her dad gets them, too. Great. Well, at least I know to watch for it. And Olivia knows to head for the garbage can next time instead of spewing blood across the room like an oscillating sprinkler. Blech.

On Fridays, our days are less frantic. Less populated. I do have a couple new enrollments starting this week, though, and both of those kids will be attending on Friday afternoons. So it's about to get a little more busy. No Bob on Fridays, though. (whew)

Aaron and Olivia were playing together in the dramatic play area. They both had babies. Olivia was rummaging through the bins, looking for a bottle for her baby.

"I can't find a bottle!" she said.

Aaron said, "You can just give her mommy milk."

Olivia looked at him, puzzled. "What?"

"Mommy milk," he said again.

"What's mommy milk?"

"You know. It's when your mom makes milk in her breasts," he told her. "The baby gets milk when they snuggle up to their mommy."

He pulled the collar of his t shirt down and showed her a nipple.
She still looked mystified.

Then, pulling out one of the baby bottles from the bin, she said, "Well, you can feed your baby whatever you want. I want a bottle for mine."

I loved that Aaron just gave a straightforward explanation and they went on with what they were doing.

I didn't say anything or show by my demeanor that I had even heard the conversation. He was informative without being silly or inappropriate. I thought it was so cute. I haven't caught up with his mom, she picked him up while I was on my break, but I will tell her.