When my sister, Aunt ZZ, was born I was super protective of her.
We went to an in-home day care and I did not let our day care provider change her diapers in front of the other kids, especially the boys. Thankfully, we had an amazing day care mother and she obliged my insane, six year old, request.
ZZ was very fat and very bald for quite some time in her babyhood. She acquired the unfortunate nick names, Ardie Donovan
and Little Fat Girl (LFG)
These were all said in good fun and I think the people who called her these names figured she was too young to understand so no harm, no foul. I, however, was not too young to understand. While I was not specifically aware of Ardie Donovan when I was in the first grade, I picked up on the context clues that he likely was not cutie pie.
I did know what LFG stood for and I hated it- HATED it. Whenever anyone called ZZ LFG, they would catch hell from a six year old me. I distinctly remember being so upset by this name at one point that I even cried.
I also cried whenever ZZ got shots during routine doctor visits. I would have to leave the exam room and sit in the waiting room and even then I could still hear her cry and my eyes would well up.
Once she fell off her bike and scraped up the entire length of her leg from her knee to her ankle. A neighbor had to carry her home. My mom and I sat on the side of the tub with her, washing out the gravel as tears streamed down ZZ'a face (and mine).
This past weekend J, Pman, CBL and I were on the deck. We were about 20 minutes away from dinner time and CBL dumped water on herself in an attempt to drink from a big girl cup. I pulled off her shirt and started a chain reaction. She immediately took off her shorts and socks and was soon running around the deck in her diaper.
I figured since bath time was literally moments away, a diaper was good enough attire for the moment.
Pman totally disagreed. He kept asking me to put her clothes back on. I tried explaining my bath time logic to him, but he did not want to hear it.
I tried telling him she was fine and happy in only her diaper. No go.
I showed him that our deck is completely protected by trees and no one can see her. Not good enough.
He got quiet and went inside. Moments later he emerged from the house holding a mismatched set of CBL pj's in his hands. "Put these on her please."
I get it. He is protecting her. He does not want her to be the butt of a joke. He wants her to know that he is looking out for her- always.
Happy Mother's Day to me!