The Incident With the Sink

You know that quiet that strikes fear in the moms of toddlers? It's really more than quiet; it's the Ominous Silence. The last time I heard it, I was busy cleaning up a poopster-piece (Fecal art? Turd painting? Call it what you will...) in my daughter's bedroom. It was the Ominous Silence, followed shortly thereafter by what sounded like the kitchen sink.

I slowly walked into the kitchen.

This is what I saw:

A chair, pushed from the dining room to the kitchen, was up against the kitchen counter and had been used as a step stool. She was completely naked. Again. She was on the counter, having made her way past the wooden block that holds our knives, knocking it over. She'd also managed to knock the very expensive water filter off the sink, breaking it and the faucet. She'd then turned on the hot water full blast. So there she was — on the counter, bare-assed, surrounded by knives, broken plumbing and scalding hot water.

I looked at her in disbelief. She just smiled at me, pointed at the sink filled with knives and near-boiling water, and said: "Dat's hot, Momma."