I walked into the bathroom a few nights ago and found Son1 back floating in the tub. He caught me off guard and I burst out laughing. I used to do the very same thing at his age. I rushed to get my camera, because, after all, I am the family historian, memory maker, whatever you want to call me.
I called the end of bath time, and he stood up. I rinsed him off with the detachable shower head, and he jumped out and onto the fuzzy yellow rug. I grabbed a towel off the rack behind Son1, and leaned to sit backward onto the closed lid of the commode when I heard a SNAP! But before my mind could figure out what snapped, my toes were pointed above my tummy, and my okole (Hawaiian word for my rear, but everyone says okole here, pronounced Oh-Ko-Leh) was sunk, nearly into the bowl of the toilet. I jumped up, and the plastic pieces retracted into place from their open scissor like position. And since my camera was sitting on the counter top, I couldn't resist taking a picture of the culprit.
My memory flashed back again to the first day of First Grade. Tony A. sat down after the Pledge of Allegiance and cracked the wooden seat in half. Everyone laughed and he was completely humiliated. Like a mind reader, Son1 looked at me in an accusatory way and said, "Mommy broke the toilet!!! Ohh...Daddy's gonna fix it." Who taught him that? Oh yeah, Mommy did. Anytime anything breaks in this house, and their needs an immediate fix, that's Daddy's job. Only. SIGH. Daddy came up the stairs, and Son1 repeated himself. Hubby just looked at me, and told us he could fix it. Now how was he going to do that? He just looked at me knowingly, and told me he was going to buy a new one. Ok, so my brain was misfiring just a little.I put Son1 to bed, hoping that he would forget the day his mother sat on the toilet seat and broke the lid. No such luck. For the last few days, at the most random times, he sings out, "Mommy broke the toilet!" I figured I better tell you before you hear it from him.
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