In keeping with our theme of “Kellen and his Bodily Functions”, I give you a glimpse into my life from yesterday afternoon, which explains why rock stars and celebrities and game show hosts weep in jealousy for the glamour that is my life:
I was on the phone with a friend when I heard Kellen calling from the other room, “Mom …. Mom …. MOM!!!! The toilet is fixing to overflow! MOM HURRY THERE’S WATER EVERYWHERE IT’S A FLOOD AAGGGGHHHHH!”
And I walked to the bathroom, expecting a clogged toilet, only to discover our own Trevi Fountain, with water pouring out and overflowing the bowl at a rapid rate. “I’ll call you back!” I said to my girlfriend and threw the phone down. As I stepped into the bathroom, I realized the rugs were soaked, the water was already standing an inch deep, and still coming. Straddling the toilet so my shoes wouldn’t get wet from the sheet of water raining down the sides of the bowl, I jerked the tank cover off the back of the toilet and pulled up on the round float-y thing that connects to the chain hanging from the metal arm hook-y thing. (Yes, I’m pretty sure that is the exact scientific descriptive term.)
There wasn’t much else I could do from this position because if I let go of the float-y thing, the water would begin pouring out again and there was already a lake in the bathroom. So I turned to Kellen, “Quick! Go grab a towel! Hurry, hurry!” He ran out of the room, with me shouting, “Hurry! Bring me a towel!” after him the entire time. I could see the huge puddle of water ebbing closer and closer to the hardwood floor in the hallway and the rugs couldn’t soak up any more. … “Run, Kellen! Get a towel! Faster!”
And the child, I swear I am not making this up, ran back into the bathroom, full of support and resourcefulness, and threw a Single. Paper. Towel. into the lake.
Because he is nothing if not helpful.
That boy, he’s not right in the head.