People ask me all the time, “How many kids do you have?” And I usually reply without skipping a beat, ” I have six if you count my husband.”
This morning I got the shock of my life. No I’m not pregnant…again. At exactly 5:36am this morning (give or take a few minutes) I turned on my kitchen faucet and got shot smack-dap in the face and chest with water. As I stood there dumbfounded and still half asleep, I tried to figure out just why the faucet was misbehaving.
It took me a whole ten seconds (with the water shooting me in the face the entire time, btw) to realize that it wasn’t the faucet who was misbehaving, but someone else in my family.
Seems that particular someone thought it would be funny knock down hilarious to put a rubber band around the sprayer nozzle, locking it in the ‘open’ position. Which, when the water was turned on, would spray the poor, unsuspecting fool with cold water.
Now given that this joke was extremely juvenile in origin, I had two choices as to who the trickster was: my husband or my twelve year old son. Seeing as how my twelve year old wasn’t hiding around the corner or sprawled out on the kitchen floor laughing, I narrowed it down to my husband.
Sure enough as I entered the bedroom dripping wet, my husband—the guilty party— sat up in bed and began laughing….uncontrollably, mind you. When asked why he would do such a thing he replied, “It was either that or ketchup packs under the toilet seat.”
Yes folks, I have six kids living in my house.