Several ladies from the church had dropped by to help me settle into this house. O--'s mother came by and the two kids played happily (mostly) for awhile. They had their spats but generally they were short lived and easily forgotten. At one point I noticed that it was very quiet upstairs.
Me: They're playing awfully well together. I peer up the stairs. Behind a closed door. I start up the stairs.
At this point I slowly become aware of the fact that I hear water running. It takes a full two seconds for me to process this auditory revelation and then I say...
Me: Do you hear water running?
I simultaneously hear O-- playing happily behind the closed playroom door. Garrett, on the other hand, I do not hear. I fly toward the sound of the running water and, as I turn the corner into my bathroom I find this...He climbed the toilet. He climbed into the sink. He turned on freezing cold water. He climbed in fully clothed. Everything within reach became a bath toy. Lotion, deodorant, dental floss, toothbrushes. If it was on the counter or in the cabinet, it was floating in the water. When I turned the corner he jumped a mile. Then he saw me, assumed I would be excited about this little extravaganza and started yanking off his clothing and yelling, "Pool! Bath!"
I told him not to do that ever again. Though I questioned his cold water bath in late November I informed him that he ought not pull those shenanigans again. But man if I wasn't trying so desperately hard not to crack up. I cannot say the same for the other adults in the house who found it uproariously funny and didn't hide their mirth.
There was water everywhere and, as I cleaned it up I watched Garrett relieve his bladder on the carpet. Oh toddlers.