The Mystery of the Wet Map

Will has a giant map puzzle on the floor of her bedroom.

She loves to pull apart the giant foam shapes and then piece them back together. There are lots of animal pictures, not to mention letters and numbers and colours to identify. It's a great area for a big kid diaper change and the perfect place to sit and read while that same kid slowwwwwwly falls asleep.

This morning I found a puddle on the map. On Mali, to be exact, although it was pooling into Burkina Faso and Niger.

I looked at Will. "Did you pee on the map?"

"No. Potty." She led me into the bathroom for emphasis. "No pee map. Potty."

I knew she hadn't actually peed on the potty. She has only done that once before, and she still had her diaper on from last night. So then she couldn't have peed on the map either, right?

Her diaper was soaked through, but even if she had tried to pee on the map, it would have collected in her pajamas, not in a neat little puddle on the map.

It wasn't me. I'm pretty certain it wasn't my husband.

That left the cats. I knew I had been a little lax in cleaning their litter boxes this week. But when I cleaned up the mess there was definitely not that pungent and unmistakable smell of cat pee.

Hmmm.

My detective mind went back to Will. Maybe she peed on the map last night? After her bath but before her diaper?

But last night I sat on that map, right near Mali, and read my book. Will got out of bed and walked directly across it to stand on my book. I took her back to bed along the same route more than once, and never stepped in a puddle of wet.

Then what?

Was it really pee, or maybe just water? Spilled or poured from a child's cup with a straw?

I don't think I will ever know.