The other day, the kids played outside for an hour or so before lunch. It wasn't too cold -- warmer than 15 degrees, anyway -- so I didn't bother with snowpants. When I called them inside, I told them to wash their hands, and added that Maia should use the potty before she ate.
"I already goed wee-wee," she said after washing her hands.
"No, you didn't," I said. "You washed your hands and came out. Go in and go potty, please."
"I did!" she cried, and the lower lip began its march down her face. "I DID go wee-wee!"
I noticed John had both hands clapped over his mouth and he was doing what I call his Mike Myers laugh: He hunches up his shoulders and silently and slowly bobs up and down, like Wayne on "Wayne's World."
"What?" I said. "What's going on?"
"I DID go wee-wee!" Maia said. "I goed wee-wee outside!"
John, overcome, burst out with a cackle. "Is this true?" I asked him as he lay gasping on the chair.
"Yes," he giggled.
"Did YOU pee outside?"
"No," he cried, rolling around with glee.
Maia stood quietly, smiling slightly. I checked her pants and boots: They were dry. How did she DO that? At a loss, I finally said, "But Maia, wasn't that COLD?"
She tilted her head and looked out the window, thinking. Then she shrugged and said, "Mm, yeah."