You are in such big trouble, kid.
At this very moment your poor, hardworking dad is REMOVING THE TOILET FROM THE BATHROOM with our plumber friend, because a certain someone who will remain unnamed (LEAFY! LEAFY!) flushed something that should not have been flushed.
This is not like the day that you gleefully streaked past me with your sister's pink socks, and flushed them, to her absolute grief and terror. This is not like that day, because although you traumatized your sister, who watched too late and in unbelief, and then cried for an hour, the socks just slid on down.
This whatever it is, I suppose we'll know soon enough, did not swim freely through. It lodged itself in the toilet, just well enough that things that should be in the toilet are not going down properly.
Leafy. It is not enough to be cute. It is not enough to resemble Barack Obama so closely. It is not enough to stand in front of the sink and ask me to lift you up to the mirror so that you can "listen." It is not enough to sing the cutest songs with the cutest voice in the whole world, including the entire alphabet song.
It is not even enough to kiss me with those juicy lips of yours.
Okay, the kissing and the lips? They're almost enough. And so are the "I love you, Mama's"
But I'm still going to have to ask you to join the rest of us in appropriate flushing. APPROPRIATE FLUSHING. This means no toys. No socks. No shirts. No shoes. No basketballs.
And no Little People. (Word just came from the other end of the house that one of your new Little People met an untimely demise. There has also been much whooping and shrieking.)
I love you anyways, Kid.