This entry was originally posted on August 21, 2008. (I’m trying to rebuild my lost archives.)
(That is how 4-year-old Clark’s confession began last night as he was putting on his pajamas,) “… but sometimes when we’re at Aunt Becca’s house and I go to the bathroom …” (uh oh, this is going to be bad.) … “I can’t reach the sink, so I just wash my hands in the toilet.” I didn’t even believe him until he vigorously nodded his head up and down and said, “I’m serious, mom.”
“But Claaaaark, that only makes your hands dirtier!”
(with a look of regret) “Oops! And I forgot soap, too.”
You can imagine Aunt Becca’s great joy at hearing the news, her mind reeling through the many times she’d asked him to go wash his hands so he could help her make cookies or dinner. Of course, Daddy thought this was a hilarious story and all the boys laughed and laughed together. I have no life lesson to attach to this story; it was just too good to not share. Perhaps my biggest concern is his great pleasure at our reaction of shock and disgust. This does not bode well for the future. Sigh.