Child Prodigy

Son of a bitch, she broke the kitchen sink. Come on man, are you kidding me?! Do I even have to mention who it was, really? And she did it right in front of me, although I don’t even know how. Like some magician of destruction, she wowed me with a distraction and then cut the lady in half leaving me wondering how she did it in the first place. She’s got a gift for this and that’s kind of scary.

I was trying to clean the house because otherwise it would take only a day before we would be wallowing in our own filth. Yes, it gets that bad. It would be like that scene from Star Wars where Luke is calling for R 2 to shut off the trash compactor. In this version the trash monster would be my cat. Bubba Hoss would be R2. We would be crushed because an episode of Dora came on and we were forgotten about. Little Hoss, of course, would be Vader. Stupid Dora.

So I was letting her play in the sink rather than follow me around with the Pledge constantly trying to polish my bald head. I do want to point out that I could see her the whole time. We were even singing a song called “Aerial is my Best Friend”, a Little Hoss original. It was s stunning a capella version. The album drops next month.

I went back to throw some cracker crumbs away and that’s when I saw the sink almost overflowing with muddy brown-like water. I have no idea how she did this. There was nothing there for her to stuff down the sink to clog it up. She had a cup, a plate and a sponge. That’s it. I was very careful about this, I know my daughter. But somehow her little MacGyver mind found a way to combine these things so that the sink would come close to imploding. Seriously, I bet she rocks at physics.

This wasn’t the side of the sink with the garbage disposal, nope, that would be to easy. This was the other side with the very small holes that a piece of rice won’t even go down. I dug my hand around at the bottom and made sure the drain was clear. Nothing. No reason what so ever it should be clogged. I got the plunger and tried to jar the clog loose. Maybe it was grease and had nothing to do with my daughter. Right. And maybe daytime has nothing to do with the sun.

I was forced to go under the sink and use my rudimentary plumbing skills to fix this. It occurred to me that perhaps the sole reason for my existence is to fix the things that my daughter destroys. God made me a handyman to a 3 year old.

I take the pipe off without realizing the sink was full of water. I use the past tense “was” here because as soon as I unscrewed the pipe, all the dirty brown water came rushing out and splattered on the floor and my pants. Little Hoss thought this was cool so she then decides to sit down in it and splash around. I’m glad she was entertained.

I look into the pipe and see something. I have no idea what it is, but it’s white. I give the pipe a good sling and out pops a quivering round white mass about 4 inches long and 2 inches think. It didn’t even break apart. I have no idea what this is or where it came from. Maybe Little Hoss didn’t do this. It looked like unprocessed Tofu but with a sweeter smell. It jiggled when I poked it. I was close to calling NASA and reporting a new life form.

Once again I asked Little Hoss if she put something down the sink. I’m so intrigued at this point that I promise she won’t even get into trouble. She thinks about it then says “yes” and runs to the fridge. She opens it and grabs something and hands it to me.

It is the huge family sized syrup bottle that I had just bought yesterday. And now it’s empty. 32 fluid ounces of syrup were poured down the sink in some molasses typhoon all at one time. Apparently, when that happens it makes a huge quivering mass that clogs the pipes like an artery. Then the trademark syrupy brown color leaches out until you are left with something that resembles a giant tube worm of terror.

I admit, I was a bit flabbergasted. I didn’t even know that this was even possible. And the fact that she knew to get it from the fridge, pour it down the sink, have the presence of mind to put the empty bottle back, all the while singing to me—that’s college level deviousness. She could teach guys in prison something.

If destruction was a piano, she would be a child prodigy. She is the Michael Jordan of mayhem. This is Lex Luther good.

And me, well, I’m just her Ms. Tessmocker. I don’t even get an Ottisville.