Monday, January 22, 2007

Disgusting Kid Story Of The Day

So I walk by the bathroom this afternoon and I hear my son start crying. I run in and there he is, sitting on the toilet, in tears.

"What's wrong?" I ask him, my mind instantly playing out a series of Rube Goldberg-esque paranoid parenting fantasies ....ranging from "he's constipated" to "he's shitting blood and has leukemia".

"It fell in," he sobs.

"What fell in?"

"IT FELL IN!" he repeats, only louder and snottier.

Slightly relieved, but now baffled and almost afraid to look, I peer between his pale, skinny little chicken legs and into the bowl.

There, in the bowl is a steaming, mostly submerged pile of poo. And there, partially embedded in the poo, is my wife's Tiffany watch.

I look at my son. He's still just crying and pointing...and pooping. Another nugget lands on the pile as we continue staring into the bowl together.

I'm stunned...but kind of not stunned. After all, I have two kids.

"Was Mommy's watch on the counter?" I ask him.

"Yes," he sobs and grunts at the same time.

"Were you playing with it while you were going potty?"

"Yes."

Sob. Grunt.

"Did you drop it in the toilet?"

I'm not sure why I'm asking questions...maybe trying to sound parental and not throw-up or just trying to delay the inevitable retrieval of the watch.

"Yes."

"You didn't eat Mommy's watch, did you?"

"No."

"It just fell in, right?"

"Yes."

Sob. Grunt. This one lands on the watch. Whew...it rolls off to the side. Splash.

"Did you drop it in on purpose?"

"No"

Sob.

"Was it an accident?"

"Yes."

Sob.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Grunt.

Finally, and to my own surprise, I realize the true intentions of my conversational delay.

My wife walks in to the bathroom, phone cradled to her ear, "...hang on one sec....", reaches into the toilet, grabs the watch, washes it off in the sink, sets it back on the counter, and walks out.

I look back at my son, who's still stifling sobs but no longer grunting. I'm not sure what to say now.

"Are you done?"

"Yes."

I walk out and pass my wife in the hall.

"He's done."