Somebody is climbing the staircase.
"Clomp, clomp, clomp." The footsteps climb higher. My thoughts dart to the girls sleeping in their room at the top of the stairs. I sit up and frantically glance around to see my husband sleeping peacefully next to me. He's too much trouble to wake up and I wonder how I will save my family.
"Clomp, clomp."
Pause.
"Bang!" The intruder is now at the baby gate. My heart races and I freeze as it bangs open.
Then a little blond head bobs into view, clutching a diaper to her chest and purposefully heading toward the bathroom.
I let go of the breath I didn't know I was holding and hop out of bed to intercept her.
"What are you doing?" I question my tiny two-year old, probably a little too forcefully.
"Mommy, I go poo-poo in potty," she happily replies.
"What? Show Mommy."
I follow her into the bathroom where she had indeed done quite a bit of business in her little potty chair. Somehow she had managed to get out of bed, take off her pjs and diaper, and sit on her potty chair all by herself.
Then she realized she needed a new diaper so she went all the way to the downstairs stash to grab one and bring it up. How she thought she was going to put it on herself, I have no idea.
I helped her clean up, praised her for using her potty chair, put her diaper on her, and tucked her back into bed, all the while wondering how I slept through her getting out of bed in the first place.
Thankful that we didn't have a real intruder, I went back to bed and spent the rest of the night analyzing what I would do if my sleepyhead had been a real intruder.
