My Daughter the Narc

I happened to be escorting Riley to the upstairs potty the other day (she likes to have company). She climbed up on the potty and continued our convesation as she took care of business. When she was done, I handed her a Kleenex since we had run out of toilet paper and hadn't had the chance to get to the store to buy more. She cleaned herself off and put the Kleenex into the wastepaper basket.

"Oops!" I said, "We'd better put that in the potty." I pinched the corner of the tissue with my thumb and forefinger and dropped it gracefully into the toilet. We were going to show the house that day and I didn't want that kind of thing laying around.

"No, Mommy!" she reprimanded, "Daddy said we weren't aloud to flush the Kleenex in the potty!"

"Oh," I said, "I didn't know." I had forgotten that Doc had come from the land of septic systems and didn't care to flush much other than, well, number 1 and number 2. I think he underestimates the power of city sewer systems. But I digress.

"Well," Riley said, "I'm going to have to tell Daddy about this. He's not going to be happy."

"You go right ahead and tell him," I said, trying not to guffaw, "I'll handle the consequences."

"I will," she vowed as she finished dressing herself.