January 3, 2007



I'm an idiot, on about a hundred levels. But today's level stems from the reason I no longer have a cell phone.

"Honey, where is my phone?"
"It's MY phone!"
"Where is MOMMY'S phone?"

"It's taking a bath."

But I don't pay her any mind, because really. Phones don't take baths and my girls don't even have access to the bathroom.

Hours later, as we're about to leave so that Geo can attend a wake near Philadelphia, I ask my daughter again where my phone is. And she replies again, very patiently because she is speaking to an idiot, "It's taking a bath." And then the puzzle pieces slowly begin to form a picture and I run to the bathroom. There, in the middle of their inflatable duck bathtub is my cell phone. Underwater. Taking a bath.

I guess she ran in with my aunt or grandma while I was cleaning the kitchen, and managed to toss it in before she got shooed out. I'm fairly certain the culprit was Faith, Angelina's arms were wet so it looks as if at some point she tried to save it. Or drown it. I can't believe it never occurred to me that they would do something like that with my phone. It should have. THEY'RE THREE. This is what three-year-olds do.

On the plus side, after a 5-hour bath I now have one very clean cell phone. When you move it side to side, it looks like one of those pens where the ink drains away and shows you someone nekkid.

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