The guest bathroom toilet would just NOT flush well. The problem got worse and worse...you know the type when the water will go down agonizingly slowly. Toilet paper floats on the surface as the water level gets lower and lower and lower...and then, without much drama, the show is over, the paper remains, and the tank begins to refill.
Well, the LAST time we had these symptoms, the cause turned out to be a ball-point pen in the toilet. Although the plumber gave a valiant performance, the toilet was unsalvageable and we paid the plumber's $150 bill without having anything to show for his visit.
So, THIS time I was determined to HAVE a replacement toilet on hand, so that if the plumber diagnosed that our porcelain darling needed to retire, I could save him the extra trip back (including fuel surcharge...did you know there's a fuel surcharge!?).
I packed the kids into the car all around noon...as Doctor Rooter was coming at 1:00. We went to the local jumbo-gigantor-hardware-and-more store to pick out a new toilet.
Zoe was in my cart, but of course the boys were playing tag, giggling and peeking at each other across the aisles, consisting of palettes stacked with toilet-filled cardboard boxes. Stacked boxes always create interesting peek-holes and tempting hidey-holes and sneaky cubbies.
Guy came cruising around the corner and scrunched down by my knee, hiding from his brother in the next aisle. I was busy thumbing through pamphlets, determining if toilets need to pull a vacuum to get an effective flush, or if water pressure alone can do the job. As he stood up to peek over some boxes, he put his hands on one conveniently stacked to five-year-old eye-level and pulled up slightly to get a view over the top.
CRASH! The box was inconveniently wobbly, as well as being unfortunately four times heavier than Guy himself. The result would not have been so bad if it hadn't landed right on top of his flimsy red barefoot-filled galosh (singular of galoshes?). Yes, my kid wears galoshes in 90 degree sunny weather.
He gave me one of those panic-stricken looks before wrinkling into tears, that lets a mother know that it REALLY hurts. I put him in the cart and removed the boot...already the top of the foot was developing a bruise. The cardboard-enshrouded toilet didn't seem to be in pain (how could I know for sure?).
Amidst the sobs, I quickly chose a toilet and proceeded to check out. The employee who helped me treated me the same as she would most moms with a screaming child in a cart...that is, not abnormally.
I took him home, iced his foot, and administered bubble-gum flavored painkillers while he watched a video and we waited for the plumber. And waited. And waited. Guy fell asleep. The plumber FINALLY showed up at 4:00, snaked out a popsicle stick, and was out by 4:02. (for $100, that's $3,000/hour!).
We were in the car to instacare by 4:03 and had X-rays and broken-foot diagnosis by 5:00. Unfortunately, they didn't have the strappy-walking cast thingie in children's sizes, so the next morning we went to the awesome children's hospital to get one put on.
The kids had so much fun at the hospital, they were a little let down to learn that we won't be going back any time soon (according to my plans.) They have game boys and leap pads to check out at the front desk, free books to take home, a tree house to play in, nice rocking chairs, computers, and cute themed decor throughout. The entrance lobby has a movie theater, and the kids got free ice cream cones to eat while watching a show.
Over the next few days, Guy admitted to his friends that yes, his foot had been broken by a toilet. Since the cast was held on with velcro and easy to remove, he only wore it in situations when walking was essential, such as going to church, riding a scooter, or playing tag in the grocery store. The rest of the time, he opted to crawl or hop. The doctor had said he couldn't further hurt himself by walking on it...pain would prevent him from overdoing it.
Surprisingly, after only a couple of days, he started walking on his heel with no cast on, and after another day or two, it was hardly noticeable that he was favoring his "broken" toe. A miracle healing!! Bone regrows in two short days!!
And then, I wasn't too surprised when the Instacare called us back with the simple message, "the radiologist took another look at the X-rays, and the foot is actually NOT broken."
So the time came when I had to RETURN the happily unnecessary extra toilet in the back of my car. "Kids, DO NOT RUN AROUND in the store this time, or somebody is going to get a BROKEN BONE!" I implored. At least I can say this with meaning, and I hope the experience was not a total loss.
"C'mon, Guy, we'll be all right, as long as we run in an aisle that doesn't display TOILETS!" Xander smartly quipped as the two raced away.
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