sunday morning floods

So there was Young Indiana in the shower and there was me at the other end of the bathroom checking FB and stuff and suddenly I realize that although I’ve been telling him not to block the drain there’s water slopping over the edge of the shower and that the entire kitchen below is flooding.

Of course I start bellowing, “Ted! TED!” because I don’t even know why and I’m running downstairs and shouting, “TED!” and he leaps out of bed and I make Indy bring towels downstairs and show him what’s happened and he gasps, “This is a DISASTER!”

and now Ted’s standing in the kitchen looking horrified and like he’s going to puke from waking up to a sudden adreneline rush while I’m saying “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I don’t know why I shouted for you, it’s not like there was anything you could actually DO, I guess maybe I had the horrible idea a pipe had actually broken and I was going to need more hands” and there are towels all over the floor

and Indy says “I was just trying to float my triceratops!”

and Ted says “Of course you were,” to him, and, his sense of humor somewhat restored, says to me, “You just needed another adult brain to pick up the processing power to judge the level of emergency,” which was fairly accurate and

drip drip drip splat drip

and now I’m doing the Laundry of a Thousand Sodden Towels while poor Ted goes back to bed

and I never did get Indy’s hair washed.

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