The crash that reverberates from beyond the bathroom door indicates a flagrant disregard of some rule or another.

“HOLY cow!  What was that??  Are you okay?”


“WHAT was that??”

“i was…hanging…on something. and it fell.”

“WHAT were you hanging on???”

[Door opens]


Towel bar in hand.  Left towel bar holder in hand.  Screws – which had been installed without anchors, thank you previous owners – ripped out of drywall.

“You were HANGING on the TOWEL BAR?!?”


“I. You. I can’t believe this.  Put that down.  I’m not dealing with this right now.  You can tell Dad when you get home and ask him to fix it.”

Retreat to den.  Seethe.  Congratulate yourself for not exploding.  Feel slight guilt over pushing the repair off on Dad when you’re perfectly capable of fixing it in five minutes.

Hear sniffles.  Sniffles turn to sobs.

Enter child, head hanging, sobs at maximum, words incoherent.

“I can’t understand you.”

“I. *sob* Don’t. *gasp* Deserve. *sob* To have. *gasp* ANY. *sob* Fun. *Choke* Today.”

“No fun?”

“No. *sob* I tried to fix it. *gasp* But it won’t STAY! *wheeze*”

At this point, hyperventilation seems imminent.

“Come here, sweetie.”

Hug.  Breathe.  Repeat.  Again.

“Would you like me to help you fix it?”

“yes.  please.”

“Okay, then, put some shoes on and come out to the garage with me.”

Lessons learned by him:

~ The importance of drywall anchors and how they work.

~ Righty tighty, lefty loosy.

~ How towel bars are assembled.

~ Why we have rules against treating the household fixtures like a jungle gym.

Lessons learned by me:

~ We have some teeny-tiny hex wrenches.

~ Bathroom lighting is even worse for photography than the rest of the house.

~ My baby’s growing up and learning unprompted responsibility.

~ I just might be doing something right in this whole parenting thing.