I have a footnote to the last post. Add this to things that just ain't right...
William had to go potty a while ago. The kind of potty where he stays in there a really long time and then hollers out "I'm finished now" and we're supposed to do something about it. Except that he's been told that five-year-olds should take care of their own business. So lately I just don't come running very fast when I hear him beckon from beyond the closed door.
So tonight he hollered out but it sounded different, so I DID go running. Only to open the door and have him ask me to hand him his newest prized possession. A tiny little plastic two cent pirate ring that he wears on his pinkie. It was lying on the bathroom counter and he needed it. Immediately. I rolled my eyes, held my nose and handed him the ring. And left to take care of my own business....washing dishes.
A minute or so later we hear a panicked, urgent call for help. I went running while Andy continued reading the paper, barely looking up. I opened the door and find William, still sitting there, peering into the pot with a forlorn look on his face. I didn't even have to ask. He looked down again, looked back up at me and whined, "Ma....ma! My ring!"
No. Friggin'. Way.
I closed the door, walked out to where Andy was still perusing the sports page and said, "William needs you."
Let's just say that Andy's now William's hero. Had something to do with a rubber glove....some bleach....hot water....not sure what all else. But when he came to kiss me goodnight, William was proudly wearing his ring once again.
The things we do for love.