Still thinking about it...

I dropped Brynner's tennis ball in the church toilet on Sunday. Lovely. See, some time between trying (the operative word) to hold his collection of stuff and holding him up on the sink and getting the soap and drying his hands... it slipped. One bounce and into the toilet it went as I watched helplessly over my shoulder. I seriously considered leaving it there for half a second, then realized some kid would probably have a heart attack and die. So, I did the one thousand and forty fifth gross thing since becoming a parent, reached in and retrieved it-soggy and dripping. Thew it in the trash, did my grossed out dance (that involves a lot of head shaking and running in place in case you wanted a visual-you're welcome), and washed my hands three times for good measure. Because I was so sneaky Brynn had completely forgotten tennis balls even existed. Me? I can't seem to forget. Quick! Someone squeeze lemon juice in my eye!