The littlest water fountain

I was up last night on the computer, with the rest of the house blissfully asleep, when I heard a whimper coming from Esther's room. I arose to the clatter, to see what was the matter, and by the time I got to her room she sounded pretty upset. Poor little thing, I assumed she had had a bad dream, so I picked her up for a few seconds of cuddle-time before putting her back to bed. I patted her little bottom...hmmm...had she been swimming?

AAiiiiigghh! I placed her gingerly but rapidly back on the bed, which set off more cries of distress. I patted the bed in several places and discovered it was quite soaked. Eeewww. I don't care whose little darling it is, pee is pee.

"Sit right there", I commanded. She kept whimpering.

I ran around looking for replacement sheets, and couldn't find any, so I ran back to our bedroom and peered into my wife's face. I knew she wasn't sleeping. We had long ago become quite skilled in the age-old art of "playing possum" when one of the kids needed tending to in the middle of the night. I whispered, "Monica", and her eyes squinted open.

"What?"
"Where are the sheets?"
"In her dresser."

Note that I didn't have to explain anything about what was going on. I scrambled around and made what Monica later described as "lots of noise" and finally got the little booger back to bed. Next time we'll go to the bathroom before going to bed won't we?