Stank

Did you know on average, I hear the yell for 'mom' 783 times a day? How do I know that statistic? Because one day, my imaginary secretary's sole task was to keep track of how many times she heard that call.
The point being this...when I hear someone yell, "Moooooooooooommmmmm," I don't drop what I'm doing and run to the emergency. To the contrary, in fact. I put my earphones in and ignore them the first few times, really trying their dedication, which in turn measures the desperation of the situation. If they are persistent, I answer them and we go from there.
Well tonight I heard the first few rounds- barely, I must add- of someone yelling my name. It took no effort at all to ignore them. But the muffled sound kept coming and at some point- who knows, maybe 5 minutes in- I finally answered and responded to the dispatch. Now I've seen many a sights when responding to calls, but I'd be lying if I didn't say this scene caught me completely off guard.
I opened the bathroom door to see my son with his shorts down at his ankles, 2 inches of water on the ground, and doo-doo brown water filled in the toilet.

imagine this look plus a ground full of pungent water

Pathetic. It's a very pathetic scene to walk into. 
I was just standing there speechless, jaw on the ground. And he was doing the best he could to explain, "I don't know what happened, I flushed and the water kept coming. Someone put too many wipes in there, I didn't do it, I don't know what happened..." You know the drill.
And after his in depth explanation of what did or didn't happen, I was still just looking at the great flood of 2012 wondering how in the world this was caused by a 6-year-old and a lone two flushes. Either miraculous or impossible. I still don't know which word describes the situation. 
When my gawking didn't magically evaporate the disaster, I knew I needed back up. Instantly I started yelling, "Yoooooooooossssshhhh." Unfortunately, he's even more naturally gifted at ignoring me than I am at ignoring the kids. But I'm equally persistent and I got that boy's attention. He came bounding down the steps without the gift of a heads-up either. He entered the scene and mirrored my reaction and shock.
Having already regained my composure, I was in business mode, ready to attack this situation. "Go get the plunger." I know all guys love love love to use 'tools'. I'm guessing the plunger is the exception. But with no other option, Yosh got that bad boy and started on the task of producing a monster suction. Meanwhile, I was on the search for every spare towel in our house to mop up the water before our thirsty hardwood floors did. While doing this, I heard Yosh just muttering and cussing and searching deep in his soul. I returned with my towels and found him elbow deep in brown water, just on the brink of getting it to lower. Quite the feat for someone who prefers to do his house chores with a check book. 
The kids had already been evacuated from the contaminated area but they stood just around the corner, surely taking notes on how we- their dependable, responsible, wise wise wise parents- respond to trauma. Yes, straight-up, undiluted, dirty trauma. 
And we pulled through for our little on-lookers. Yosh emptied the toilet and walked away like a hero as he scooped his daughter up in his arms. I retrieved the SIX....digest that....six beach towels and threw them right in the trash washer before busting out the Costco size bottle of bleach. What is the moral here? Will I now be responding to those 783 'mooooooms' a day quicker? No, no I will not.  I will now first put in my earphones when I hear the call....and then my nose plug.

{ok, no more holding out! Remember this project?  It's time to get cracking and send me some pics of what beginning means to you....agirlnamedgay@gmail.com. And......GO!}   stalk AGNG: