Tuesday, March 10, 2009

Do Not Flush! TP only Please!

The Destroyer has been out creeping around in full destruction mode. His latest shenanigan had my hubby, the Bear, dismantling the kids' toilet to retrieve the Destroyer's toothbrush.

I was rounding up the troops getting them ready for school. Doing the whole routine, combing hair, brushing teeth etc, when I noticed the Destroyer loitering around the potty, toothbrush in hand, daunting around in nothing but a diaper and a deleterious grin.

I could sense trouble on the horizon so I told the Destroyer to get away from the potty. But before I could even finish my statement, the little warmonger had dropped his toothbrush in the toilet and flushed!

I peered in the toilet, no toothbrush in sight. "Holy Crap! The thing actually flushed!," I thought in disbelief. I did a follow flush just to check to make sure it wasn't caught in the drain pipe. All systems looked a go.

I reprimanded the Destroyer and off my troops went to carry on with their day.

It seemed like both the Destroyer and I were free from facing the wrath of the Bear. I had actually forgotten about the incident until a few days later screams of dismay emerged from the crime scene. "Mommy! The Destroyer flushed the toilet while I was going poopie and now it's exploding! Quick, there is water squirting all over the floor!" screamed the General.

"Shit!" (pun intended)

I rushed up the stairs and was greeted the by Destroyer, "Uh-Oh, I naughty." I head straight into the kids latrine. Sure enough there was water just pouring out of the toilet.

I called the Bear, who told me that there was nothing he could do while he was at work and that he would take care of it when he got home. Surrendering to the fact that there was nothing I could do, I threw towels on the floor and shut the door, not giving it another thought.

Later that night, I was at work when the Bear called me, (I feel I have to premise this next bit with the fact that my husband except for this case in point is more like a teddy bear than a grizzly) growling into the phone that if I ever bought another Clorox wipe again that he would shoot me.

Apparently Clorox wipes and toothbrushes don't flush well. We left it at that agreeing to discuss the matter when I got home from work.

When I walked into the house a few hours later, all was quite and the three boys were sitting on the hearth as still as statues. "Where Daddy?" I asked.

The General was quick to answer in excitement, "Oh, Daddy found the Destroyer's toothbrush when he was taking apart the toilet."

"Yea, and it was covered in our poopies!" giggled the Tank.

"So where's Daddy?" I asked again.

"He's in the shower, cleaning the poopies off his hands," answered the General.

I instructed the boys not to leave the hearth while I went up to check on the Bear. I tip-toed up the stairs where I was greeted by a fierce growl, "I don't know what you were thinking flushing those things down the toilet."

"What? I didn't flush the toothbrush!" I responded, trying to play innocent.

"The wipes! What were you thinking? They got all wrapped around the toothbrush and plugged everything up.!"

"Again, I didn't flush the toothbrush," I said rather coyly.

Finding no humor in my statement, the Bear roared, "What are you three? Toilet paper only!"

Monday, March 2, 2009

More Power!

I feel as if my life is turning into daily episodes straight out of Home Improvement. For those of you not familiar with the show, it's a comedy from the early 90's, that deals with the daily trials and tribulations of an over zealous handyman and his wife raising three mischievous boys. Sounds like my life right?

I get that it is in man's nature to feel the need for "more power," but seriously, how much "power" do four and five year old little boys need?

My husband's latest Tim Allen moment involved a foot of snow, a hose, sleds, and two eager boys who felt the need for speed.

I opened my front door and asked the Bear, "what are you doing?" I could clearly see that he had dug out a tunnel in the snow which he was icing up with water from our hose.

Now a deer caught in the head lights, the Bear turned and replied, "The boys wanted to go faster."

"So you decided to create a luge in the front yard? How fast does a five year old need to go?" I was completely dumbfounded.

Visons of our children rocketing into our neighbor's yard down the hill danced in my head. Have our children not had enough stitches and staples for one year?