The Vulcan Eyebrow

I got a phone call from my husband a few minutes ago. Here you go ...

Husband: Your son just called me. (Please note, its "our" son in reality. Which boded no good.)
Lucy: WHAT? (Because we had the "don't call your father all the time" talk yesterday)

Husband: When I told him to talk to you, he said he couldn't find you.
Lucy: WHAT? (Because I'm in the kitchen)

Husband: Then I lost the stream of thought. I think its an emergency involving poop and something metal, and he's trapped in the bathroom.
Lucy: What? WHO? Which bathroom? (Slightly suspiciously) (This is how some pranks begin, I would think)

Husband: I don't know. But I think you need to find him. And then call me back.
Lucy: Hmmmmm.

And, so, I traipsed through the house looking for Lee (age 8). I found him in the bathroom under the basement stairs. In his underwear. Because you can't go to the bathroom in your Spiderman-costume-jumpsuit. Apparently, he was holding something like a metal key and accidentially dropped it in the toilet. Where it slipped under the poop. IF he flushed, the toilet might explode. If he left, someone else might flush the toilet. What a quandry for a small boy!

The solution? Mommy putting her hand in the toilet and pulling out the poop-covered metal-key-toy-thing. I just looked at him. I could feel, almost against my will, The Vulcan Eyebrow look sliding across my face. "So. You think that the solution is for ME to put MY hand in the poop?" The horror began to dawn on him. Shivers. Darting eyes. Desperation. I thought for a moment I might have to use the Vulcan Death-grip on him. Turns out, the Vulcan Eyebrow was enough.

Heh. I must remember to use this power for good, not evil.

Waves

LOL! Oh my.

Leni | 11/06/2007 - 04:32 AM
 
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