Rachel, I

Many of my friends have heard me describe my 4 year old daughter, Rachel, as being one small degree away from being the Batman villain played by Heath Ledger, the Joker. Allow me to provide an example of her diabolical intelligence.

Behind the cute smile lies the mind of an arch criminal.

To say Rachel clings to my wife Shawn is like saying the chocolate in a Reese’s cup clings to the wrapper on a summer day. The way she attaches herself to Shawn might be endearing if it weren’t first and foremost so goddamn pathetic. I have my theories as to why she is this way which go far beyond any normal mother / child affection, but I’ll save those for the confines of our home. I will say, though, that the only three people on this Earth who do not take the shit this kid shovels are myself, my mother-in-law and Rachel’s daycare teacher and our preferred babysitter, Candy.

Candy has been our “when no family is available” sitter of choice for two years now. She is reliable, safety trained, and most importantly takes no crap off of Rachel. I cannot stress this strongly enough.

You can imagine our surprise then when at 2 AM after Candy had watched the kids one night when Rachel, who is not nighttime trained but wears a pull-up to bed, came in our room having wet the bed. Rachel came in, woke Shawn (and me by association only as she could not give two shits about me) and went in the bathroom to take off her pajamas and throw her pull-up away and get cleaned up. Shawn changed the sheets, cleaned Rachel and got her fresh PJs.

I told Candy about this the next day and asked her to make sure Rachel put the pull-up on correctly as she has been known to put them on backwards. Candy said she would make sure.

Skip forward to the next time Candy came over, and the entire scene repeats itself. Now, Rachel never overflows a pull-up, and she had done it twice in two weeks, both when Candy came over. Everyone thinks Rachel is so cute and falls for her shit. Not me. I knew something was rotten in the state of Denmark. I thought I had it figured out, but needed to catch her in the act.

Next time Candy comes over, scene repeats, except this time I jump out of bed and catch Rachel in the bathroom before the PJs come off and the pull-up goes in the trash and sure enough, the PJs are bone dry. I looked at her, she refused to make eye contact with me, and I said, “You, little miss, are busted.” Cue the quivering lip fake whimper.

We give both kids a spill proof water bottle when they go to sleep to avoid the BS “can I have a drink of water” requests. Rachel was taking the bottle and pouring it out in the bed so she could have an excuse to wake up Shawn. Evil. Just evil. Shawn missed the fact Rachel’s PJs were dry the first two times because in her half asleep stupor she would wash Rachel off and grab the PJs with the towel and throw them all in the washer.

Problem solved, right?

Nope, because the next time Candy came over Rachel took off her pull-up in bed and peed.

That might not be the pencil in eye the Joker gave that one dude, but everybody has to start somewhere.