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anthony has earned the distinction in our home as the person who has deposited more objects into the toilet than anyone else. obviously, in his case i'm referring to objects not meant to go in the toilet. he seems convinced that the commode is the proper storage location for every loose and free-standing object we own. if you ever spot him meandering the halls with something in hand, you can be sure he is headed to the bathroom. to complicate matters, this dance between him and us has made him think someone shouting NO! at him means he should start dashing for the bowl double-time in attempt to deliver his parcel before an adult snatches him up by the armpit, disarming him of his bauble. in some closer instances, i have deflected sailing objects away from the bowl in mid-air saves worthy of slow-motion replays and espn accolades.

the stakes in this game of wits, speed and strategy are compounded by the fact i am the only member of our family who flushes the toilet with any regularity. and now that anthony is more mobile and independent, when you raise the lid of our home's only toilet you truly don't know what you may find lurking (floating or sunken) in that highly trafficked receptacle.

marty and i sometimes try to remember back to life before kids. oddly, neither of us possess any vivid memories or visions from those days. it's almost like i never knew a world where i wasn't surprised to find a water-logged, paperback novel awkwardly resting in the base of the toilet bowl. and it's like i've always been accustomed to muttering an 'ahh shit' as i reach for the garbage can and pull some toilet paper from the roll to clear the way for my own business. i mean it's always been like this, right?




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