A Mexican Standoff

It was a battle of wills, the likes of which I’ll probably never see again.  On one side, we have The Mom, my sister-in-law…calm, cool, collected; a database programmer by trade.  On the other side, we have The Daughter, my niece…4 1/2 years old, cute, smart, stubborn.  Actually, stubborn is too mild a word, and uber-stubborn doesn’t cut it either.  Let’s just say that when she gets into this kind of mood, you could crack coconuts over her head and it wouldn’t phase her a bit.

It’s December 29th and The Mom and I are sitting at the dining room table chatting.  I’ve got about 30 minutes before I have to head to the airport so we’re just shooting the breeze.  The Daughter announces, like all good 4 year olds, that she’s gotta poop, and we see her walk into the bathroom.  After about 5 minutes or so, The Mom checks on her:

“Are you ok in there?” she says, to which The Daughter responds, “Yes, I’m fine.”

After another 5 minutes or so, The Daughter announces, “Moooooom, you need to come wipe me!!”. (Yes, there were two exclamation points after her sentence…you could hear them).  The Mom replies with, “You’re old enough to wipe yourself!”.  And the standoff begins…although we didn’t know it was a standoff.

A few minutes later we hear, “Mooooooommmmmmm, you need to come wipe me!!!”, with the emphasis on the word “need”, as if it was her Mom’s sworn duty to wipe her, um, doodie.  Again, the Mom declined.

Ten minutes go by, still no wiping going on.  From the bathroom we hear, “Mooooommm, I really, REALLY don’t want to wipe myself!”  Sure, I was sympathetic to her cause, even though I pretended otherwise.  You know how it is, you come home really late, drunk, reeking of cigarette smoke and unfulfilled expectations, and right before you wipe, you think, “Dude, if I had a hose in here…”.   

At this point, somebody has to give.  The Daughter’s been sitting on the toilet for upwards of 20 minutes and her poor, dangling legs have got to be going to sleep.  A truce is attempted.  The Mom says, “I’ll wipe once and you finish the rest”.  The counter offer of, “NO!  YOU DO IT!” is made.  The Mom repeats her offer, only to be countered with a sobbing whine, “Nooooo”…It’s an impasse.  My brother walks by, assesses the situation as only a Dad can do and says, “Quit it and wipe your butt”.  The man could have been speaking Chinese for all the good it did.

I wish I could tell you this ended peacfully with both sides agreeing to a mutually satisfying wipe, but I can’t.  It was ugly…accusations and doodie flying everywhere.  A negotiator had to be called in to moderate the standoff on the grounds that too much sitting would give a rash.  Yes, I did make it to the airport on time, but now, whenever I reflect on the Christmas of 2008, all I can think of is, “Moooooommm!!  I really, REALLY don’t want to wipe myself” as I reach for the hose.

Leftovers

I don’t know about you, but eating leftovers of food you cooked yourself is pretty cool.  Haven’t cooked in a while, but over Thanksgiving, I made a pot roast and my Mom taught me to cook a brisket…six pounds of it. 🙂 I gotta admit, both are really pretty tasty.  Plus, I learned to make mashed potatoes and even bought a mixer to help. 🙂

You might want to rethink that one…

My boss has decreed that any and all documentation be placed into a single location on our file server.  Can’t argue with that since we’ve had it stored in quite a few different locations.  I can, however, argue with the location in which he wants to put it…in a folder on our file server labled “PWID”. 

If your reaction is “PWID??  What the hell does that mean?”, then your reaction is the same as mine.  If you’re going to create folder for documentation, why not name it “Documentation” or “Group Documentation” or even something like, “If you want to know something, look in here”….but PWID?  Only a manager would think this is meaningful. 

You wanna know what it stands for?  My group and I think it stands for “People Will Ignore Documentation”.  In reality, my boss manages 4 groups and each letter represents the first letter of each group.  Makes perfect sense, right?  If so, you just might be management material.