In which, Medium has a mad.

Ever since Large Fry's rather crazed and phobic reaction to bees a couple months ago, Medium's fear of anything that might be classified as a "bug" has grown.  I got tired of the kids using my bathroom and not flushing, so I banned them from it unless they absolutely could not wait and all other potties were in use, and/or they got specific permission.

Medium has been very determined to use no potty but ours in the last week or so.  There's a spider/spider webs/something scary behind the toilet in the downstairs bath.  There's a stinkbug in their bathroom.  She simply caaaaaaan't use them.

We had one of these little showdowns today.

Dad had an appointment in Lisle, and decided he was going to just mosey the rest of the way down here to S-burg, and asked if I was free for lunch.  Well, the twins not being in school on Thursdays, our two-person lunch swelled to four.  And then Hubby decided he'd better, for the sake of his mental health, join us for lunch.  And then Mom joined in once she learned Dad would be lunching with grandies.

Medium had been insisting that she needed to go potty, and was adamant that she couldn't use the kids' potty (stinkbug...on the nine-foot ceiling) or the half bath downstairs (spiders behind the toilet).  Fine, I said.  She didn't want to use either, then obviously she didn't have to go all that badly.  We're heading out the door to lunch when she says she has to use the potty as soon as we get to the restaurant, because she has to go "very bad."  Mom suggests that she goes to use the potty now.  All well and good...until I tell Medium that she can't use ours.  Meanie that I am, I insisted that she go to the closest bathroom--the one downstairs.  She screamed and cried the whole way down there.  I had to send Hubby in to deal with her, because I was tired of this same fight that I'd been having with her for half an hour.

Now, at this point it's worth telling you that we are often complimented on how cute our kids are.  And they are (I can even say that and be totally unbiased).  Hubby observed, not long into this little experiment of ours, that he finally understood why some animals eat their young.  And that he really understands why God made little kids cute: it's the only way they'd survive.

Innyhoo.  I told you that to relate this conversation in the van, on our way to the restaurant today....

Medium [still mad]: I didn't wanna use dat potty.  And now I fohwrgot Duckie.

Me: Well, if you hadn't had such a temper tantrum over which potty to use, you might not have forgotten him.

Medium [grumps]: Hmph.

Mad.

Hubby: That's a shame.

Medium: No, it's nawt!  It's hohwwrible!

Hubby failed to muffle a chuckle.  I had my hand near my mouth as it was, and quickly slapped it over my smile.

Medium: Don't laugh at me!

Hubby: I'm not laughing.

Medium: Den why awre you smiling?

Hubby: Because you're cute.

Medium: No, I'm not!  I wish I was nevewr evewr cute!

Hubby: Yes, you are.  It's a good thing you're cute.

Medium grumps again.

Hubby: Can you say 'justifiable homicide'?  Oh, never mind.

Medium: You can say dat again!