Our living room rug was perhaps the most foolish purchase I have made. We picked it up at IKEA when Daniel was itty bitty enough that we were counting his age in weeks, not even months. It wasn't expensive, it's the right size, looks okay with the increasingly shabby furniture...but there is one problem. It's white. Not bright white, but more like a soft white or maybe ivory. At least, it was. In the four years since, our poor rug has been repeatedly baptized with every possible beverage, snack and bodily fluid you could think of. It has also endured the careless gestures of enthusiastic young artists wielding colored markers (which are washable, but only to a point) and several accidents involving homemade play dough. I chose this rug because at the time I liked it and thought it fit the room, but so many times since then, I've said to myself "What was I thinking?"
Today, for example. I had just finished scrubbing away lines made by a blue marker, and I muttered "Maybe I should just get a new rug." Not 15 minutes later, the kids decided it was Naked Time (they periodically doff their clothes and chase each other around, squealing with laughter). Daniel is fine for Naked Time, since he has finally learned to answer the Call of Nature by going to the bathroom. But Anya is not even close. Several months ago, she liked to wake up between 5:00 and 5:30am and request to sit on the potty, but usually nothing happened, and eventually the novelty wore off. She is extremely resistant to potty-training, in fact, and if you know Anya, you'll understand me when I say that it is really best NOT to push this and let her decide when she is ready.
Please, please let her be ready soon. Because most of the time, Naked Time goes without major incident, but today, as if on cue, right after I contemplated replacing that awful rug, she pooped on it. I didn't see it happen because I was in the kitchen trying to get dinner ready, but I heard her whimper, "Mom! I pooped!"
Ten minutes, several rags, and a lot of Lysol later, you can't tell. Or if there is a stain, it's no worse than the ones left from the long, frustrating period when Daniel was figuring this all out, or the particularly stubborn brown splotch from the Thanksgiving my parents and brother came to visit and they ALL broke coffee mugs...yeah, I think it's best to leave the rug where it is until this particular phase of childhood is past. But whenever Anya decides to potty train (and like I said, I am leaving this ball in her court), I may reward myself with a new rug. And I'll be sure it's not white.