Swim Away! Swim Away!

All those under thirty were finally in bed, and I finally had some time to myself. I went downstairs and plopped down in front of the laptop to journal the happenings of our day.

The boys have been behaving well all week, so I decided to reward them with the newly released Finding Nemo DVD. I thought some little plastic fish were also in order, since Alex is so fascinated with water play. The packages I purchased contained two clown fish, one big and one small. He could reenact Nemo in the bathtub.

I don't know what the link is with Autism and an obsession with water, but several kids on the spectrum share this enchantment.

We popped some popcorn, cuddled up next to one another on the couch, and laughed our way through the undersea adventure.

As I tucked them into bed, they each requested to sleep with their new toys. 'Sleeping with the fishes' did cross my mind, but I let them despite my twisted sense of humor.

At this point in recounting the day's events, I heard footsteps upstairs, leading to the bathroom. I thought nothing of it and continued documenting.

A few moments later, I heard the toilet flush and then more footsteps running back to bed. "Pit stop to Dreamville" I thought.

I continued writing, almost concluding the entry when I heard more footsteps making their way to the bathroom. A few moments later, the flush. However, instead of footsteps I heard a bit of commotion, so I stood at the bottom of the stairs, directing my voice upwards.

"Is everything alright up there?" I asked.

"Just had to go potty, Mommy."

"Ok, now get to bed. Goodnight."

"Ok . . . 'Nite, Mommy!"

I sat back down to express my final thoughts. Saved my work and tidied up a bit before going to dreamland myself.

That's when I heard it. Drip . . . drip . . . drip

I checked the kitchen sink. Nothing. The downstairs bathroom. Nothing. Laundry room. Still nothing.

I stood in the hallway . . . listening. It sounded like drops of water plunking into more water. I carefully tracked the sound to our hot water heater closet. I opened the door and, sure enough, there was water everywhere. We just had that replaced! How could it be broken already?

Upon further investigation, though, I found water steaming down the walls of the closet from upstairs. The bathroom! It's directly above the closet.

I rush upstairs to the boys' bathroom to find the toilet overflowing, water all over the floor and little plastic fish floating at the top of the bowl.

I panic! "OMG . . . what happened here?"

My oldest comes out of his room. "Get me some towels! HURRY!"

It never fails something like this happens right after you've washed, dried and carefully folded three loads of towels.

As Brandon and I are frantically cleaning up the mess, Alex peeks his head around the corner.

"Do you know what happened, Alex? Why are your fish in here?"

"Meemo was stuck, Mommy! I twied to hep him go home. All dwains weed to the osean."

There you have it, ladies and gentlemen. The next Jacques Cousteau!