Last night as I was in the kids' room telling them bedtime stories, Z suddenly leapt up and shouted "MY POOP IS COMING OUT!" and ran out of the room. I shouted encouragement to her to go into the bathroom. She doesn't really need that sort of direction any longer, but I am always glad to offer it, and will probably continue to do so until she turns 25 and finds a husband who can give her an occasional unnecessary verbal direction.
I told A, "Your sister really waits to the last minute, doesn't she?"
After a minute I started to wonder what had happened to her, as I thought I heard strange sobbing noises. I walked to the kids' bathroom, but she wasn't there. Well, I thought, I suppose she might have gone to my bathroom... which shows she is thinking ahead, but not really being thoughtful.
But she wasn't there either.
So I went downstairs, where I could definitely hear sobbing, to discover her standing in front of Krista, who had a bloody paper towel in one hand. Z had actually shouted, "MY TOOTH IS COMING OUT!" Which made more sense.
The tooth has yet to come out. Z won't let me touch it. She seemed to think the miscommunication was funny, and we all had a good laugh. It's easy to forget how hard it is to talk with only half the teeth a grownup has.