Gentle Toes

So, a few weeks ago, my dad re-tiled my bathroom floor. (After he had to rip out part of the shower to re-plumb it and then re-tile that, but that's for another day.) In doing so, the door had to come off and the toilet had to relocate to the bathtub.

Of course, the toilet being in the bathtub was just the most interesting thing, but not quite as interesting as the hole in the floor that the toilet usually sits on. ("Where the heck does 'Gentle Toes' come into this story?" you may be asking. Did I forget to mention this involves MB?) The zoo animals were instructed to NOT GO IN THE BATHROOM ON THREAT OF CERTAIN DEATH. That translates to, "Hover at the entrance as close as humanly possible without actually stepping into the bathroom, unless my feet accidentally, maybe slip over the edge and sort of but not really touch the bathroom floor."

MB was, as most boys are, even more fascinated with the whole toilet-in-the-tub, hole-in-the-ground scenario than MG.

Soon, my mom tells me of a conversation that goes something like this:

"Geemaw, when you go to the bathroom and then flush, the poop goes like this [hands swooping one way], and the pee goes like this [hands swooping another way]."

"Really?"

"Ya."

"Did you go in the bathroom?"

Silence.

Slight look of guilt.

"Bapa just put the tile on the floor, and we can't step on it when it's not dry. When you step on it you can accidentally move the new tile and ruin the floor."

Silence.

"Well, it's ok because I only stepped on it with my gentle toes, and they don't weigh any pounds."

And, end.