Eau de Toilette

What do the following items have in common?




The answer? They have all been saved from eminent death by sewer. Yes, these items have all been fished out of the toilet in the past twenty-four hours. I know what you are thinking, "Close the door, dummy! Keep that baby out of the bathroom." Well, I can explain myself, but this saga is multi-faceted.

Our story begins here...

The day dawned hot and humid, your typical New Jersey summer day. On this day, of all days, I decided to clean out the attic. Truth be told, I went to retrieve something from the attic and it turned into clean the attic smackdown. (I like that word. A lot.) Once I got started I simply could not stop, despite the fact that I was perspiring at an alarming rate. (Hmmm, I am giving serious thought to the flip comment I made last night that I am not obsessive compulsive.) While I was cleaning the attic, the boys were building lego's and taking care of Joe. I could hear every word they said because we have a very old house and the walls and floors are paper thin. Out of the blue I heard, "JOE!! EWWWW, that's disgusting. MOOOMMMMMMMYYYYY." Item number one, the bucket truck matchbox car, safely removed. Thankfully the toilet was sans pee.

It is now roughly 11:00. Joe's naptime. I put him down for a nap, rehydrate, send the boys outside to play and head back into the towering inferno. I found a rug that we briefly used in the boys room and thought it would look great in the kitchen under the table. I have this thing about rugs in the kitchen, I like them. So I drag the rug down two flights of stairs, trying not to wake Joe. (You enter the attic, it's a walk-up, via his room.) I moved the table and chairs, rolled up the old rug, washed the floor where the old rug lay and rolled out the new one. Vacuum. Put the table and chairs back, rehydrate and off to the attic I go.

Two hours later, I emerge, extremely hot and hungry. Perfect timing, Joe is awake. I change his diaper and go into my room to change my shirt. As I enter the hallway I hear banging coming from the bathroom. Joe has the dowel from a tapestry that I should have hung up about a year ago and he is swirling it around in the potty. Man, that boy is quick! I get the dowel out of the toilet and rinse it off. Item number two safely removed.

I head downstairs and the boys are ready for lunch. I prepare lunch for everyone and wait for my mom to come over. She is going to stay with the boys while I go for a run. Yeeaahhh, that was a great idea, in theory! What is wrong with me! I trained for a marathon, I know runner safety. You do not run during the hottest part of the day. Especially when it is 90 degrees and humid. (Note to self, don't do that again!)

I returned to find the boys playing in the pool and grandma cheering on their every trick and stunt. Mom leaves shortly after I arrive and Joe and I head inside as the boys go out front to play with their friend. I am really in need of a shower, so Joe and I go upstairs. I block off all possible escape routes to the downstairs and enter the shower. I hear his little voice babbling and then I hear, SPLASH. I quickly stick my head out of the shower and find the stuffed dog and the block in the toilet. That dog will never be the same. The block, well, it's just a block.
Item numbers three and four, safely retrieved. Now, I get smart and close the lid. That will show him! Right? Nay.

I get out of the shower and go into my room to get dressed. I hear the tell tale lid hitting the tank and SPLASH. I look out just in time to see Joe fleeing the scene of the crime. In the toilet, item number five, triangle shape sorter piece, safely retrieved. And with that, I closed the door.

Here is the worst part, I stuck my hand in the toilet five times today. That is just wrong.