Clap Your hands Say Wee!

Phoebe can't talk much yet, but she can certainly communicate.
She signs a little, she says a lot through waving at things, through crying or squealing, and, just recently, through clapping.
 She got the hang of clapping the week before last and was very proud of herself*.
She clapped, and she grinned, and she generally illuminated the whole room with her glee.
So when she did a weewee on the potty and was looking particularly proud of herself, the obvious thing seemed to be to clap.
I clapped.
Eleanor clapped.
And of course, Phoebe clapped.
 Since this occasion every time Phoebe does a weewee on the potty she claps.
She also claps if she hears someone flush the loo**.
She clapped tonight, with a somewhat awestruck expression, when she heard the shower running.
 And then, just as I was putting a nappy on her at bedtime, she realised she needed the potty.
She cried at me.
I didn't get it.
She wriggled her bottom in a holding-on-for-dear-life-and-a-dry-flexitot*** fashion.
I didn't get it.
She stared into my eyes in an attempt to drive the information directly into my brain.
I didn't get it.****
Finally, in desperation and with little hope of getting anything through my exceptionally dense skull, she clapped.

I got it.



*So she carried on clapping, she felt she deserved the applause.
** It's nice to be appreciated.
*** It's a type of nappy.
Made from bamboo.
**** But wouldn't it be cool if I had?