Last night was the perfect example. At bedtime she insisted that she did not have to go to the bathroom. And I, ever the idiot, believed her. So at 1:30 a.m. I heard a little voice in my room, “Hey, dad! Hey Mom! I can’t sleep!” It turns out that she had wet her pants just a little. So she had needed clean panties (which we keep in the downstairs bathroom–I don’t know why). She came downstairs, put them on, went back upstairs to her room to put on clean pajamas, then came back downstairs to tell us that she needed to go to bed.
All this in a house that was pitch black because I forgot to turn on any lights before I went to sleep. Apparently it didn’t bother her.
I love low maintenance children! (She is learning from The Master, Arabella, who despite being seven, will throw up in the middle of the night, clean up, change her clothes, and not mention it til I wake her up for school the next morning.)