Dark Comedy

I must share Griffin's most recent tragedy...or is it comedy? You decide.

Yesterday I was in the kitchen--I'm always in the kitchen it seems--and Griffin runs through saying, "I have to go potty." Which is a big thing in our family as he is not always a hundred percent. In fact, his average is relatively low. So I give him the, "Good boy! Good job!" And off he goes.

The next thing I know there is a large crash and instantaneous blood-curdeling screaming--the kind where a mom knows right away that someone is really hurt this time. "What in the world?!" I meet him coming around the corner. He is crying so hard he can hardly breathe let alone talk, but he is holding his head, so I ask, "Did you hit your head?"

He nods.

The only thing I can fathom at this point is that he maybe could have fallen off the toilet, but what was the crashing sound? Time to investigate. I pick him up and walk toward the bathroom. It is suddenly clear what has happened. There is an overturned bucket that he must have brought in from the laundry room.

"Were you standing on the bucket?"

More nodding and crying.

Well, at least the mystery is solved, but wait, what is that on the ledge of the sink? Is that what I think it is? Poop? On the sink? What the...

"Griff! Why is there poop on the sink?"

Still crying.

"Let me look at your hands." He has been known to try modern art. I will say no more on that topic.

Nothing on his hands. Suddenly I'm like Sherlock Holmes. Bucket...poop...sink...no other sign of it anywhere...these pieces must fit together somehow, if only I can puzzle it out.

"Griff, did you put the bucket on the stool?"

"Yes, I was trying to see my poop."

Oh, right! Of course. Why couldn't I figure that out from the get go?

"Well, that is not only gross but quite clearly a safety hazard. Let's not do that again."

So readers I ask you, comedy or tragedy? I am undecided.

The Fine Print in the Job Description

Today I am wondering how old my children will be before they will consistently flush the toilet?