The Boisvert Life

~Warning~ do not read unless you want to be grossed out!

I’m usually very good about making sure that all toilet lids are closed at all times. This morning I was really tired though, and stumbled into the bathroom, plopped Lindsay down on the rug…no, wait, on the ground because I had to remove the rug for washing after Lindsay peed on it again yesterday in the second between me removing her diaper and picking her up to take her into the shower with me….

Anyway, I plopped her down onto the floor and began washing my face and all that jazz, when I heard the terrible sound of little hands splashing in toilet water.

Please let it have been flushed, please let it have been flushed…I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

Not only had daddy not remembered to flush it before he left this morning, but mommy had also gone earlier that morning, and now the used, soggy toilet paper that had once been innocently floating in the pool of nastiness, had been violently flung against the bathroom wall, slid it’s way down, and there it sat in a disgusting heap on the heater vent, urine dripping down the wall from a perfect “splat” mark. Mmmmm, that’ll smell great when the heater kicks on later. It’s as though she was desperatley digging to the bottom of a well, searching for a prize, frantically tossing aside all obstacles in her way.

I groaned, and may even have suppressed a gag, as I picked the offending blob up off the floor and shut the lid. I then picked Lindsay up and washed her hands in the sink, twice. Sitting her back down, she immediately tore off toward the toilet again, and I spent the next three minutes cleaning up the bathroom while she screamed at me, indignant that I had ruined her fun, and “pissed” (he he) that I was now getting to play in the toilet after I had made her stop (I was actually cleaning the seat and such, but I’m sure she thought I had stolen her idea and was torturing her by making her watch me play without her, as we moms love to do)

Note to future moms - If you think something looks or smells obviously revolting, and that even though your child is a clueless baby, nature will tell it not to touch, he/she will still want to play in it. Trust me. Don’t test fate.