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Yesterday was Easter Sunday, and it was for Claire the best of times and the worst of times, a tale of two sheets. Actually a lot more than that.

Claire's weekend was probably the best she has had a long time. A three day weekend, which means that for three days in a row she can sneak into our bedroom, climb up into the bed, sit on daddy and stare - nose to nose - into my face until I wake up. On Friday we went to the zoo, on Saturday we saw Princesses on Ice and had dinner with our friend Kara downtown, and on Sunday Claire and I went to see the touring group for the show Cats. Singing, dancing and cats all in one place. And it ended with Thai food and carrot cake shared with friends at our house. What's not to love?

But that's a story for another post. This vignette begins late on Sunday night, after our friends Debbie, Micky and RickL had left for the evening. Melanie and I were busy cleaning up when we heard Claire's door open. That's unusual. I was already on my way upstairs when Claire came out, crying and frightened, and got to her first.

"Daddy!"

"Yes Claire?", I responded, not yet noticing that her pajamas were not in the same, fresh state they had been in when we put her to bed.

"I dripped."

"Oh."

By this time I knew what she meant. This was not the first time she had done what she calls dripping.

This is probably about where you are thinking "ok, so she wet the bed, big deal, you are busy potty training her and this happens". That's all quite true, and the bed was wet.

"I dripped Cake"

There are certain vocabulary words that we've just left for her to correct on her own over time because she does not have much need for them. Vomit is one that we didn't correct the first time she screamed out "Mommy! I dripped!" in horror as she showed us the very small pool of upchuck on her pillow. We were somewhat focused on calming her down then, and it was a terribly cute, adorably clever way to explain what just happened.

But this time - not so cute. A blend of walnuts, frosting, pad thai, basil beef and shredded carrots covered her pillow, her mattress, sheets and PJs. Not to mention the grimy five-o-clock shadow she was sporting.

We cleaned her up, got the bedding in the laundry, remade the bed, put clean PJs on her, shaved off the five-o-clock shadow with a little soap and water and got her back to bed.

An hour later she wailed over the monitor "Mommie! I dripped again!"

By the end of the night she had repeated this routine over fifteen times. Melanie slept a lot less than I did, Claire didn't sleep much at all. Ella was woken up repeatedly from our noise. The electric company wonders why we were running our washer and dryer non stop from 10:00pm until noon the next day.

24 hours later she is much better, although still has a slight fever.

Alas she has learned a new vocabulary word too - throw-up. I'm going to miss 'drip'.

To Claire in 2025: don't drink and drip.