We’re starting to make memories in our new home. Most are of the mundane, everyone-remembers-painting-their-new-home type variety. Some are of the oh-look-the-master-bath-is-leaking variety. And some are truly unique to our immediate little family of four.
Because the following exchange would only happen in our house. First let me set the scene, and to do so, we have to back up a little bit. And talk about poop.
BigBrother demands that after a bowel movement but prior to wiping, he must flush. He was always panicked about “clugging” the toilet. A plunger had to be in plain sight. In our old house, he had gotten used to everything — himself, the way our toilet flushed, plunger in plain sight, and so on — and the panic subsided. It was just the norm to hear two flushes when he was in the bathroom. Life with boys. Or, at least, life with that boy.
On our first day at the new house but prior to the big move, he posed a question.
“Do we have a plunger here?”
We did, but we did not yet know that it was in the bathroom closet, so we told him no. He internalized that fact and decided not to utilize the facilities for the purpose of number two. Eventually, as we moved in, we found the plunger that came with the house and moved in our own plunger. Two plungers for two bathrooms. Life sure is good around these parts!
On our second day actually in the new house, he went off to do his business. He asked a few questions about the presence of a plunger ahead of time and seemed okay with it.
I heard the sound of the toilet flushing the first time, and then a panicked voice.
“Ahhhhhh! PLUNGER! PLUNGER! THE TOILET IS CLUGGING!”
And so I left whatever box I was unpacking and went running down the hall. By the time I got there, the toilet was done flushing and BigBrother looked slightly sheepish.
“But the water came UP before it went down.”
I explained that it’s a weird toilet and that’s just the way it works. It kind of looks like it’s going to “clug,” but then it doesn’t. He gave me a raised eyebrow, untrusting of this strange new toilet. I assured him that it would be fine and left him to finish up his business.
Every morning for the next few days, we had to stand there with him while he flushed because he was too scared to do it on his own. And not just stand there: coax him and tell him it would be okay and eventually say, “OMG! JUST FLUSH THE DANG TOILET!” Or not. But maybe.
Despite flushing drama, the two full baths, one being the master bath, just so happen to be one of my favorite parts of our new house. They’re horribly painted — and we can’t repaint just yet due to paint on the tiles. They really are the bane of our new house, though the carpet in the finished side of the basement (aka, playroom) comes in a close second). One day they will both be peaceful places for us to flush toilets.
So less this:
And something far more… us. And less tropical. Like the green accessories in our bathroom and the gray in theirs. Both with plungers in quick reach, obviously.
