I remember it like it was yesterday; 2008. Maysen was about to turn 4 and had just started that climbing and getting into every.thing. We had just finished up supper and I was cleaning up. Griffin began to get cranky and so I left the kitchen to attend to him.
That's when it all went down. Like a perfectly planned masterpiece. But not.
I hear rustling in the kitchen.
Mase? What are you in to?
MAYSEN. What are you ...
Just then I hear what sounds like an explosion of a million tiny bead-like objects falling onto every hard surface in my kitchen. What in the world is that? Is it beads? No. I don't bead. Is it marbles? No. Too heavy for marbles.
Then I remembered: I had a brand new bag of those tiny cinnamon candy balls I had bought for Maysen's bowling ball cupcakes for his bowling party.
I rounded the corner to see his eyes as big as silver dollars holding a bag that had been ripped from end to end. You can tell the look on his face said "This is NOT what I had planned"
My husband heard my exasperated prolonged sigh that I let out.
I will get the broom.
I'm so thankful I have a husband who, not only can read my mind, but can act without seeing the destruction ahead. As I heard him stop what he was doing, he headed for the laundry room where our broom was housed. I wondered how he would maneuver around in there because I currently had it filled with laundry as I continued with my 108-load marathon laundry day. I had originally expected to hear a curse word or two come out of his mouth as he trudged around in there. Instead:
Uh. Oh my. Umm. HONEY! SOMETHING HAS GONE TERRIBLY WRONG IN HERE!!
I stood there not knowing whether to grab my 4yr old off the counter and brave the death walk that was my cinnamon-ball covered floor like a scene off Home Alone when the burglars slip on the marble trap, or go to my husbands aid and brace for what was coming at me next.
I decided to opt for #2 as I told Mase to "hold still" as I had "an emergency to attend to". I ran to my husband's defense to whatever was attacking him in the laundry room. A few steps away from the laundry room I heard water. Like, splashing puddles of water. There stood my husband; he had pulled his pant legs up as to not get them wet has he stood, confused, in 2" of water that had flooded my laundry room floor.
The hose, which is attached to the draining system for our washer, had become dislodged from our tub-sink causing all the draining water to spill onto the floor.
GET ME MORE TOWELS .... I HATE THIS G.D. WASHER! .... HOW DID THIS HOSE COME OFF? ... I DON'T KNOW, NATHAN, DO YOU THINK I DID THIS ON PURPOSE? .... NO! I JUST DON'T KNOW HOW ALL OF A SUDDEN ....---
We both stopped, frozen in time with a half-panic look on our face. What do we do now?
Is Mase still on the counter?
Oh crap, yep.
I bolted from the laundry pond to find Mase, who was by now naked from the waist down for God-only knows why, standing in the living room with the phone in his hand.
As I snatched Maysen up with one hand I opened the door to find a police officer standing at the door.
Someone from this residence contacted 911. Is everything ok?
Yes, officer. Just another day in the Scovil household.