Au Pairing in Paris, Europe

Here’s a quick post I wrote last week but never got round to posting.


Disclaimer – the kids are totally potty trained (despite most of my posts involving toilet accidents) but aren’t quite used to telling me when they need to visit the bathroom and when I try to make them go they throw a fit.

Let me set the scene. The kids are on their second week of their half term holidays (so I’m properly in charge and have to entertain them alllll day). I just came back from a week away and have so much stuff to sort through lying in a pile on my bedroom floor. We’ve had a relaxed morning watching TV and making forts and I let them play some CBBC games on my laptop while I prepared our picnic for later. I came back upstairs after 10 minutes to find a puddle outside my bedroom door. A puddle. I’m thinking I must’ve given them a cup of water or something, surely no one peed outside my door. I looked at the 3 of them, my face saying ‘what the actual fudge’ but I settled for the words ‘er what is this?!’. With no sibling loyalty F blurted out that J had needed the toilet, looked in my bedroom, couldn’t find me so just got his ‘zizi’ out and marked his territory by my door. Seriously.

I couldn’t think of a reasonable punishment but told him about a million times that the toilet was where he’s meant to go. I really thought I’d got through to him and he apologised so I washed him down and redressed him. The kids carried on playing and I started on my huge pile of stuff to sort when I heard the girls scream ‘marweeee he’s doing it again!’. Another puddle.
I’m never having my own kids.

Mary, biz