so this one time ….
My brother flushed a bar of soap down the toilet. Don’t ask me how he did such a thing because I have no idea. It seems that a bar of soap would not fit into the little potty hole thingy, but he did it (as he was a thing-flushing aficionado) and wreaked a flooding havoc on the tiny powder room.
The local plumber (who visited our home so many times that I still remember his name), Jimmy Coates, came and removed the toilet in order to fish the Irish Spring out of the pipes. You may be asking yourself, where does one place a loose toilet at 7:30-ish am?, or maybe you can guess — the front yard, of course.
I am eight or nine, well into the humiliation years, and thoroughly horrified by the toilet sitting in the front yard as I wait for the school bus. Quelle horreur!
Then, like a flash, a swirl of red cape sweeps past me on the porch and in the blink of an eye the toilet is gone. The bus approaches and I board, wave goodbye to my sweet momma standing there in the yard in front of the disabled potty with her red robe wrapped around it, puffed out like a cotillion dress.
This morning, Drew sent word back inside that he would like for me to stand on the front porch and wave at him as the bus departed. I rushed right out. It felt pretty Super.
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Nothing like a good potty story to start the day. Only you could describe a toilet on the lawn and turn into a vision of a southern belle in a ballgown! Love you and your super mama.
how super duper sweet! you are always mama of the year in my book!
You both give me too much credit. I didn’t mention the fact that Stephen will now require thousands of dollars worth of therapy. But thank you much! I love you both!
Smiling…
20 minutes ago, I screamed at all of mine, “Get out of here if you’re going to wake me up yelling at each other! Be sure to talk to your teachers and bosses the way you’re fussing at each other and SEE HOW FAR YOU GET!”
I didn’t wave from the porch.
Can I come live with you?
nice mamas on porches – those are pictures that stay remembered. love your story, annie, and those slippers.
But not QUITE the same thing, is it, as you weren’t harboring a porcelain throne inside your robe. Or you didn’t SAY you were.
In some places, that displaced commode might actually be considered de riguer in lawn ornamentation.
My kids never asked me to wave to them as they departed. It was more of a sudden rush of air followed by the slamming door as they raced to catch the bus their friends would be on. So you are a lucky one.
And a good mom. Now please take Jodi in before she wakes up the neighbors.