Alright, fellow parents, let’s talk about something we’ve all faced—unless you’ve somehow trained your kid to teleport to the toilet, in which case, please write a book immediately. I’m talking about the Great Midnight Wee Crisis, a rite of passage for every small human and the tired adult who loves them.

Here’s the scene: You’re deep in a dream where you’re finally eating a meal without a little person asking for new batteries for their insanely loud toy— and BAM—a tiny voice cuts through the darkness like a fire alarm made of guilt.

“HELP ME! HELP ME!”

Now, as a dad, you’ve been conditioned to interpret this cry in one of three ways:

- Spider-related terror (valid).
- The sudden realization that tomorrow is not a weekend (also valid).
- A liquid-based emergency (most likely).

You bolt upright, perform a truly Olympic-worthy sprint down the hall, and find your child standing in a puddle of their own making, looking up at you like they’ve just committed a war crime.

“Daddy, I couldn’t find the door.”

And here’s where parenting gets real.

You have two options:

Option 1: Panic, scold, and turn this into a core memory of shame.
Option 2: Do what I did—scoop them up like a soggy football and whisper, “It’s okay son. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Spoiler: Always pick Option 2.

Because here’s the thing—at 5 years old, bladder control is basically an advanced yoga pose. Expecting a kid to master it in pitch darkness is like expecting me to parallel park without cursing. It’s just not happening.

So, you go into Dad Mode™:

Step 1: Strip the wet pajamas (while avoiding the “why are there so many tiny buttons” struggle).
Step 2: Wipe down the kid with the precision of a car wash attendant.
Step 3: Wrestle them into fresh PJs (which, let’s be honest, might be on backward).
Step 4: Mop the floor like you’re in a Flashdance audition.

And then—the most important part—you crawl into bed with them and say the magic words: “You never have to be sorry for this.”

Because here’s what they learn in that moment:

- Mistakes don’t make you bad.
- You’re safe with me, even when things get messy.
- Dad’s hugs are 100% wee-proof.

And here’s what you learn:
- The way you handle these tiny disasters shapes how they handle big ones later.
- One day, they’ll face something embarrassing—a spilled drink, a failed test, a breakup—and they’ll remember: My dad didn’t love me less when I messed up.
- That’s how you raise humans who aren’t afraid to ask for help.

So, parents, next time you’re knee-deep in a midnight mop mission, remember: You’re not just cleaning up wee. You’re building trust. You’re teaching resilience. You’re proving that love doesn’t come with conditions—even when the floor does.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go invest in glow-in-the-dark toilet handles. And maybe a hazmat suit.

Stay dry, my friends.

Love Dad (and part-time wee janitor)