Oh. My. God.
I love my son. I really, really do! He’s 5 and a half, and he’s like 18 balls of energy all rolled into one! A regular day involves a lot of “Don’t jump on that!” or “Please leave your sister alone!”
This weekend was no different. While the kids were upstairs cleaning their rooms (or their version, anyway, which is pretty much playing with all the things instead of putting them away), I was working away on the main floor cleaning. That’s when I heard it. I turned the music down, and followed it. Drip…drip…drip…
Water. Coming through my ceiling into my dining room. I immediately knew who had done it. I ran upstairs and into the bathroom, only to have my feet soaked. The toilet was filled with facecloths, all the tampons, some towels, an ENTIRE roll of toilet paper (not even unravelled – he just put the whole thing in), one pair of underwear, three socks, and some toys, all culminating in about an inch and a half of water all over the floor. And in my dining room. All so he could answer the age old question of “If I fill the toilet with stuff, will it flood?” At least it was in the name of research?
Thankfully, my husband was able to fix it with only a plunger, and I cleaned it with ALL the towels. No water stain on the ceiling, so at least there’s that.
I love my son. I really, really do. But now he’s supervised in the bathroom, which is no fun for anybody (especially me).