I am turning fifty shades of red right now… and I have no pictures of the incident… thank goodness… but I feel compelled to document the event. I need to preface by confessing that I have no idea how to raise a boy and I am almost convinced Munchie has a clone (who lives under a pile of dirty clothes) that runs around causing trouble… for this is the only possible explanation for the amount of shenanigans that take place in our home.
I put Munchie down for a nap and head to take my shower. I flip the water on and sit down to do what most people do… take that pre-shower tinkle. As I take a seat on the porcelain throne, i notice that my foot is firmly planted on a damp bath mat. For a moment, I sit there… absolutely perplexed. My husband showers in another bathroom… and there haven’t been any baths so far today… perhaps the dog was thirsty, but she doesn’t make a mess like this…
… AND THEN I STARTED CONNECTING THE DOTS. Yes, from my seated position, I cringe… the toilet seat has a bit of water splashed up on it. I look down to find PIECES OF OUR FREAKING NATIVITY SCENE in the toilet. I leap up in a panic, hoping to prevent myself from peeing on… Baby Jesus (and other less important props and characters from the story).
I thanked that sweet little baby Jesus that I cleaned the toilet last night (I would also like to thank Clorox), as (after not finding any helpful tools) I plunged my hand deep into the potty to retrieve the blessed hunks of plastic from their watery resting place.
After soaking in some bleach water, all nativity pieces have been returned to their place in the manger.
Oh, wait a minute… I see someone judging me. “Throw it away and buy a new one!” (Obviously someone who isn’t a parent, only has girls, or has an endless supply of cash.) Let me tell you one thing… if I threw away and replaced every item Munchie tossed in the toilet… we would need to take out a second mortgage. Bleach is cheaper. Plus… no one puts Baby Jesus in the trash.