Monday, 1 April 2013

The Bidet Horror

bidet
/bidei/

Noun - m. singular (french of origin I believe)

For those who do not know, a bidet kind of looks like a toilet crossed with a basin, and sits on the floor of your bathroom. It looks like it's just a mini bath for babies.

I've got a feeling, although people have them in England (i've seen them every now and again) I've never really known anyone to use it, and I'm pretty sure we only have them to fill up empty bathroom space. I've never had one in the bathroom of a house I've lived in. In the rest of Europe, however, there seems to be a bidet in practically every bathroom.

I roughly know what they're used for, but i've never ever used one myself. They look more convenient for washing your feet in...

The morning started off well; Clari and I were playing lego in her room. Giorgio and Dominga had gone to the supermarket in the morning (although it somehow took them 5 hours....) so it was just me and Clari in the house.

Suddenly she stands up and says to me:

"I need to do something."
"Okay," I said, "What is it?"
"I'm not going to tell you."
"Okay... Well go on then."
"You have to come."
"What is it?"
"I don't going to tell you. It starts with P."

I paused, trying to think of what she could be on about. She does this all the time and for all I knew it could be an italian word beginning with P and I'd have no idea at all.

"Come," she said, pulling on my sleeve. I stood up.
"Close your eyes." Slightly odd, but not unusual Clari behaviour.

Peeking through my eyelids I watched as she led me into the bathroom.
"Close them!"
I then heard her shut the door and drag the wicker washing basket in front of it to block me from getting out.

This was quite weird.

I opened my eyes as she ran over to the toilet and taking her trousers off entirely, she sat on it.
Now this wasn't really unusual for her (okay, the barring me in was slightly unnerving..) but she usually wants me to stay in the bathroom when she went to the toilet because she's scared of being in the bathroom and going on her own. I heard a plop plop plop. Well, this is awks....

"Come here."
I was stood on the otherside of the bathroom and I was pretty comfortable where I was.
"Why?"
"Come here." She got off the toilet and flushed it. Then just stood there. "You need to wash me."

I stood still. I stared at the toilet roll that was sitting on the window sill next to the toilet, untouched.
"What?" I asked. She went over to the small basin/bath thing - the bidet - and hovered there.

"I'm sorry Clari but I have no idea what you're on about. What do you want me to do?"
"You make the water come, then wait for cold to hot. I sit here and you wash me with your hand. Turn off water and then you go wash your hands."

Oh heeeeelll no. I froze, visions of my hands covered in runny six year old poo. Eurgh. My brain desperately grabbing at straws: what can I do what can I do must find a way out of this...
I pointed to the toilet roll behind her.
"So what do you use that for?" I asked hopefully. She shrugged.
"I don't know.. things."

Oh gahd. There seemed no way out.

I edged over to the bidet and turned on the tap. I waited. The warm water didn't come.
"The warm water's not coming," I told her.
"That's okay," she said sitting over the bowl, " You can use cold."

Like an idiot, I use my hand to channel the water and splash it onto her, taking serious care there was no hand-pooeybottom contact. I'm not squeamish, but there's just something about this six year old that makes me grimace. Finally, I hear the long-awaited words:

"I'm clean."

Ahhhhh thank the lord. I feared more rigorous cleaning might have to be in order, but I got away with a lucky escape. She got up and dried her bum with a towel, inspecting it before she put it back.

I don't think I've got out of a bathroom quicker.

*      *      *      *

For those of you in doubt or just plain immature like me (heheh), here is a video 'How To Use A Bidet' - or rather, how to use a b'day.

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