10 PM Easter Sunday, I’m lying in bed with a book on my chest. My mind about to punch out for the evening jars when the phone rings.
“What’s the matter kid?” I know when my daughter says the word “Hi” in just that way, that Mission Control has to come up to high alert; fast.
“My Toilet is backed up and when I flush the water is coming right to the top of the bowl and I am scared it is going to overflow.”
And all I can think of is the old cliché, “A rising tide lifts all shits.”
Being as she is on the top floor walk up of her building and it is Sunday night, I can’t help but think how I might feel, were I her neighbor in the apartment below and knew a real nasty storm was a brewin’ above.
“You need to get a plunger, NOW.”
“What’s a plunger?”
Whilst never setting the phone down, she finds the plunger. Plunger in hand and on the ready, I give her the three step plan for maximum impact with minimal splash.
As she is attempting to thread the gauntlet I hear sounds of howling laughter, utter horror, and reflexive gagging. After a minute or so of running commentary, it becomes clear she’s accomplishing little but stirring the pot. I should have realized earlier that trying to plunge a toilet while talking with a phone to one’s ear increases drag and reduces the plunging coefficient by at least 50%.
In my calmest voice I say, “Kid, hang up the phone, use both hands, and txt. me after the deal goes down. We hang up.
Problem solved within 30 seconds.
Upon receipt of the txt three things occurred to me
- Funny how the phone always seems to get in the way of getting things done.
- The greatest gifts a father can give to his children are, time, knowledge, and a sturdy plunger.
- For once I wasn’t the guy with the plunger.
God, thank you for your son, my children and for letting me be a dad.