Yesterday, while eating supper, Isaac decided that he wanted some juice, I told him that he'd have to go downstairs to get some out of the basement fridge. Down he goes - and comes back up with milk. He looks at it, looks at us, and then says "Oh...I brought milk by accident" (he comes by it honestly!) and then goes back downstairs to put the milk back and get the juice.
Suddenly, I hear *thump, bump, crash* and then..."uh....Mo-om!!" I rush down to see if he's okay, imagining he's got a bone sticking through his thigh or something. Nope, instead, I see that he's dropped the milk down the stairs, where at the bottom, the jug hit at just the right angle that it split all the way up the side. Isaac is standing there in a puddle of milk, holding on to a rapidly leaking jug and desperately trying to cover the gaping hole to stop any more milk from spilling.
Folks, he was standing right next to a bathroom!!
So there he is, with a gallon of milk all around him, standing next to a sink with a complete look of bewilderment.
"What happened?" I asked after the cleanup began.
"I tripped on a piece of foam." he says.
"What foam? There's no foam here." But oh, I was mistaken. There WAS a piece of foam...perhaps the size (and dimension) of a quarter on one of the stairs....
1 week ago