I think I was three, so this must have been 1976 or so.
Christmas Eve - long after night had fallen. I woke up needing to pee and so padded across my bedroom, barefoot and desperate.
"Mummy?" I peeked out into the darkened hallway, crossing my legs underneath my nightgown, dancing a little. "I need to go to the bathroom."
I waited, willing her to hear me over the classical music that was the soundtrack of my childhood.
Nothing. I re-crossed my legs and crept a little further into the hall, squinting down the stairs into the family room, where my parents usually sat, chatting and listening to music.
"Mummy?"
No answer.
I was alone.
Suddenly terrified, I wet myself, standing right there, in the hallway. And then I cried.
I cried while I ran back into my room and jammed my wet nightie into the dirty clothes hamper. Cried as I pulled a fresh, clean one from my drawer and over my head. Cried some more as I dragged myself to the couch, tucked myself into the corner of it and then directed my gaze to the Christmas tree lights, blazing merrily.
Vaguely, I wondered if Santa would take me with him when he came, seeing as I was all alone now. I wondered too, what I'd done to make my parents leave me behind - surely I hadn't been that naughty?
As I began to mentally tally my potential transgressions, there was a sudden whoosh of cold and then there they were, my parents. Chattering, calling "Merry Christmas!" over their shoulders and waving into the dark night behind them.
As they came laughing into the room, they spied me and stopped in their tracks, happy smiles gone.
"Elizabeth?" My mum, her voice gentle and low, moved to sit next to me on the couch.
"I had to pee!" I wailed and then hurled myself into her arms, sobbing wildly, not even caring that she was still wearing her winter coat and that it was covered in snow. "Where did you gooooo?"
"We were just next door, love. Just wishing the neighbours a Merry Christmas. We were barely gone and you were sleeping...."
"I HAD TO PEE!" I bellowed a second time, furious with them that they had not been where they were supposed to be, that I felt compelled to report my movements to them at all, (which was not their doing, just a funny little quirk of mine) and had, as a result of both, peed on the carpet on Christmas Eve.
...
Years later, I am mostly over this early trauma. But I'll admit this: whenever I wake up in the night to use the bathroom (something that happens far too often for my liking, really) I will always detour into my children's bedroom on the way back to mine....just to make sure that everyone is where they're supposed to be.
Funny, isn't it, the stuff we carry?
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