My OCD has been pretty well documented since I started this blog; no dishes left in the sink at night, all toys, blankets, and kids folded and put away every night before I go to bed, and I've got my "lock up the house" routine down to 5 minutes now.
One issue I've had to just accept is I've got kids. And they do disgusting things. Starting from the time they're born they pee, poop, throw up, and in general make of mockery of all things hygienic, and as a Dad I've just had to sort of deal with it when it happens and move on.
This was fairly easy when they were infants, a little harder when they were toddlers, and flat out exasperating when they get to the age mine are now. For the most part it's all pretty much over now for the ones not named Trot but for some reason all three of them have one huge issue.
They don't flush the toilet.
Which means every time I walk into one of the bathrooms I've got a pretty good chance of seeing a science experiment waiting for me in the bowl. And I don't know how to stop it; I've pleaded, yelled, grounded, threatened, and on one occasion quoted the entire Clark Griswold "Breakdown" scene from Christmas Vacation but nothing has worked.
Tonight, after I happened to walk into the downstairs bathroom after Rakes had just done his business I think I've finally come up with a solution.
I'm buying them all electric shock collars and carrying the remote with me at all times and when it happens again? I'm zapping all three of 'em at once, employing the time honored tradition used by coaches of all sports that when somebody screws up, EVERYBODY has to run laps.
'Cause I just don't think I can take much more.
On friendship and (more) healing.
3 hours ago