I woke up this morning early and a little under the weather. Evidently something I ingested last night had an argument with my digestive system and my digestive system lost. So I took a nice, long, hot shower to ease myself into this day and, hopefully, make myself feel a little better.
No such luck.
No sooner than I came downstairs did my day go completely down the shitter. My downstairs bathroom is flooded and water is dripping down through a light fixture and exhaust fan in the ceiling. That doesn’t sound dangerous at all, does it?
I’ve thrown some towels down, but I’m waiting for the cavalry to arrive. Maintenance should be here soon (I’m not holding my breath, though (hey! he just showed up!)) and a friend should be here with a mop and bucket for me to soak up all the high quality h20 suffocating my floor.
In the meantime, however, I’ve decided to remember and share something hilarious in order to preserve what sanity I have so I don’t start throwing shit.
This past Wednesday, C’s mother and I took him to see Sesame Street Live. C isn’t much into Sesame Street anymore (he’s all about Jake and the Neverland Pirates these days) but the tickets were free so we decided to take him. About an hour into the show, C decided that the show was too loud and he wanted to leave. So we left.
We wandered outside US Bank Arena for a while, which, for those of you unfamiliar, is right on the banks of the Ohio River right next to Great American Ballpark. C ran around for a bit looking at the flooded streets below and the overflowing body of water lazily flowing by. He looked at all the pictures on the stadium wall. “Look! It’s a baseball, Daddy!”
As is every child’s MO, C didn’t happen to mention he needed to use the restroom until we were a few feet from my car. At first my plan was to ask him to hold it until I could get to a gas station or restaurant, but by the time we got to my car he had his junk in a death grip and was frantically hopping from foot to foot in a mad pee-pee dance only toddlers have mastered.
In order to prevent a golden shower from gracing the inside of my car, I surreptitiously glanced around to see if we were alone. We were. So I grabbed C and took him over to a pillar in front of my car, yanked down his pants, and let him whiz right there on the concrete tree trunk. He went. And went. And went… “Look, Daddy! I’m making a waterfall!”
He’s such a weird child.
Finally, he finished. Crisis averted. I pulled C’s pants back up and his mom buckled him into his car seat. I eased myself into the driver’s seat, shifted my car into reverse, and pulled out of my parking space. Once I had pulled far enough back that C could see the pillar he just had soiled, and the dark stain he created while marking his territory, he yelled, “Look! I see my pee!!”
I, of course, lost it. If only I were so easily excited as my child is…