Sacrifice at the Porcelain Volcano

"So buddy, what do you want to do today?" I asked my eldest son. I balanced precariously on the ladder of his bunk bed, tugging at the sheets and blankets. Baby Girl played contentedly on the floor at my feet.

"I dunno. Maybe we could go to the park?" he suggested.

"Hmmm. Maybe." I climbed down the ladder and set to work making the lower bunk. I realized my two-year-old was no where in sight.

FLUUUUUUUSH.

I heard the unmistakable sound of a toilet flushing downstairs. Strange. My diaper-clad toddler had no legitimate reason to use the washroom.

"Ummm ... where's your little brother?" I asked my son, "Do you think you could go check on him for me?"

"Sure, Mommy." My four-year-old raced down the stairs. I heard young voices, and then two pairs of small feet ran back toward me. I finished tucking the blankets under the bed as my sons re-entered the room.

"Hi Mommy!" my bubbly two-year-old exclaimed.

I turned toward my son and assumed my best stern mommy expression. "Buddy. Did you flush something down the toilet?"

"Yes!"

I waited for him to elaborate.

My son looked up at me with wide, blue, adorable eyes.

I sighed and asked the inevitable question: "Well, what did you flush down the toilet."

"It was only a palm twee, Mommy."

I processed this revelation. "You flushed a palm tree down the toilet?"

"Yes!"

"Well, why did you flush a palm tree down the toilet?"

My son gave an exasperated sigh. "It was bwoken."

Oh, yes. How sensible. Why hadn't I thought of that? Anyone knows that broken palm trees make perfect sacrifices to the toilet gods.

Apparently, our toilet can indeed swallow an entire palm tree without ill effect. Who knew? Later in the day I also learned our toilet can handle a plastic cookie wrapper and several stickers.

What's next? Boxer shorts? An apple? I'm seriously considering taping the lid of the toilet closed. (Although that solution presents a whole new host of issues ...)

Ahhh. Never a dull moment. Never a dull moment.