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As the Toilet Flushes

So goes my life – a downward spiral, down the hopper, funnier every day, if you’re the sort that laughs at large-scale natural disasters of all kinds.

I had a thought the other night.  Odd event, I know, but thinking it didn’t stun me into forgetting it. 

All of us are aging and as we do, we often take more and more medications every day.  I have a routine at bedtime where I take calcium supplements, and cholesterol pills and something to help me sleep.  Pop, too, goes through his routine to cure what ails him, as do most of us.  And while I was in the kitchen, doling out the tablets from all their little bottles, my dog is right there with me, dancing about a bit, ever hopeful that some tasty tidbit will fall her way – after all, I’m in the kitchen where food is prepared.  This dog is a shameless thief, will steal right off the counters, steal your sandwich off your plate while you’re putting the mayonnaise away.  She is a large, or rather, a tall dog.  A Standard Poodle.  When she’s up on her hind legs, she’s damn near as tall as me.  And, well, she’s often up on her hind legs, looking for goodies, getting into trouble.  So I’m thinking, “Damn dog, get out of the way.  Hey, watch it, you’re gonna knock these pills down, and I’m gonna be on my hands and knees, crawling around trying to find them.”  And my thought-process wandered over to, “What if she got one of these pills?  Calcium wouldn’t hurt her, if she accidentally got one.  Don’t know what the cholesterol meds might do.  Sleeping pills, they could be dangerous, that much into her small body weight.”  And I started mentally going through different kinds of preparations that are usually kept on hand in most homes, things that could be dropped and that this damn stupid dog would gobble down without a thought.  Acetaminophen/Tylenol, no problem, I suppose.   Denture glue — ha, that might keep her jaws shut; could be a good thing.   I’m starting to enjoy this line of thought.    Ipecac, we keep it in the house because we have curious toddlers.  Eww, that would be disgusting.    LAXATIVES, the famous EZ-POOP!!!    Oh, God.   And I had this vision of the dog getting a few pills, and all of us having to go out to work early in the morning, and…….

An imagination is not always a benefit.

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Yesterday was my usual day to pick up the fellows from Day Care, as their mommy works late.  Bundled them into the back seat, sending one across to the other side, to the other car seat.  My thought is to get the both of them “contained” as quickly as possible, to minimize the possibility of them getting away from me in a busy parking lot.  “Up you go, boys.  Sir, get in your seat while I buckle your brother in over here.”   Apparently, one twin had other ideas, and I think they involved high-jacking my wheels and joyriding around town, maybe picking up “older women” – ones out of diapers.

 

Alex heading for the driver's seat

 

We finally got home after the guys calling out to me, “Right turn, right turn, right turn, green light, left turn.”   I’m busy teaching them Green means Go, Red means Stop, and Left/Right recognition.  This is important  for them to know, and at this age, they soak up knowledge like little sponges.  It also will postpone my having to admit to the rest of the family that I’m dazed, confused, lost and can’t find my way home anymore.  “Boys, which way?”

As we’re getting out of the vehicle, I spotted our next-door neighbor outside on his side yard.  A lovely older man with medical issues, so we don’t often see him outdoors.  There had been a small depression in the ground, and he was filling it in with dirt, very small shovelfuls at a time, to prevent anyone from falling or twisting an ankle.  I got both boys out of the car, and squatted down to speak to them.  I reminded them of some other lessons we have been talking about, and things to say.  We “rehearsed” a bit, right there in the driveway, and then I took them by the hands and went over.   And then Nicholas looked up and said, “How do you do, Mr. James?” and proffered his hand for a handshake.  Perhaps Mr. James didn’t understand the speech characteristics of a 2 year old, but he understood clearly a gentleman offering a hand in friendship, and responded immediately, as gentlemen do.  Then Alex mumbled his greeting, and stuck his hand out.  Mr. James beamed, and shook a second small hand.  And the boys were very proud of themselves.   And ran to tell their Pop, when he came home, that they shook hands with Mr. James over there in that house, pointing wildly.    There are some very good moments in this life.

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