"Running with a Torch"
Where does your imagination take you when you read that?
I'm sure you think of the beginning of the Olympic games, where Running with the Torch has become a historic event. Those who are chosen feel privileged as the throngs of people cheer with anticipation as our athletes seek to push themselves to reach their dreams. Hard work and endurance are awarded by bronze, silver and gold.
Indeed, I beheld with my own eyes, Torch Running of a Different Kind.
While relaxing watching TV with my husband, and my son was content playing on the computer, I easily could have missed my torch bearer as he whooshed up the stairs and down the hallway. My "Mommy Gut Instinct" was alerted, as I summoned my son. He did not immediately appear, which means I must heed the questions racing through my mind.
"Jonathan! What is going on? What did you have raised over your head? And where did you put it?"
I sure was hoping that what I thought I saw, was not really what I saw. But alas, the confession only confirmed my vision.
"Well, Mom, see...there was a problem with the potty downstairs, so I got that thing from the upstairs bathroom, and took care of the problem. It's fine now, really...there isn't much damage to the bathroom. I did good."
Yes...the "torch" indeed was the Plumber's Helper from the upstairs bathroom. And the dripping of water all through the den and up the stairs and down the hall, not to mention IN my son's hair was from the "problem with the potty".
This reminds me of the hundreds of times Jonathan has taken it upon himself to "fix" a problem. It really doesn't naturally occur to him to ask for help. Never has...not sure it ever will, but I can hope. After a gazillion times of Mom and Dad saying "Just ask" perhaps one day he will.
So I have learned to rely on MGI (Mommy Gut Instinct). When I "sense" something isn't quite right I become like a secret agent on an espionage mission. Inevitably I find my son immersed in some plan or project I would object and forbid. (Notice the word "immersed" was used. No pun intended.)
The surprise his time, however, he DID fix the problem, and there was little evidence of a disaster.
Except of course for the trail of potty water up the stairs and down the hall.
Anyone need a plumber? I know one who will work for a bag of Skittles. : )