Sunday, January 6, 2013

Potty talk

Collin had a preschool pal over for a play date today.  They had so much fun in the snow!

"I just don't understand why I have to do this?" Caleb whined and stomped around his room.

I snapped back, "Because this is one of those life skills you have to learn, like riding a bike or brushing your teeth."

He snorted.

"Besides," I began.  "Your wife and future roommates will absolutely hate me if I don't teach you."

Still unconvinced, he trailed behind me into his bathroom where I motioned for him to sit on the tub.  I took the stance of a teacher addressing my sole pupil.  "Today you are going to learn how to properly clean a toilet," I announced.

He jumped off his seat and snagged a wad of paper towels and a cleaner.  Just before he stuffed the wad of paper into the confines of the bowl, I stopped him.

"Let's use this instead," I said as I motioned to a toilet bowl brush.

"That?" he questioned.  "We haven't used that in years!"

I reassured him that the toilet bowl brush had been used within the last couple of years, he just wasn't a party to it.

He snagged the brush and we gazed into the toilet.  I had to stifle my immediate gag reflux as the stench and appearance overwhelmed us both.  At that moment, I desperately wished I owned a hazmat suit.  I began to use the mental tricks I used while in labor or running the marathon.  Go to your happy place, I internally chanted while trying to think about absolutely anything other than cleaning this toilet.

Between the brush, cleaner, and an insane about of elbow grease, we transformed the toilet from gas station quality to residential ready.  Even Caleb seemed pleased. 

Lesson learned, I think.



   


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