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Someone died in the bathroom

I woke up this morning to my youngest daughter, Ashlyn, shouting, "Mommy! Mommy! Did someone die in the bathroom?"

My kids say a lot of weird things, so I wasn't alarmed, but she wouldn't shut up.

"Mommy! You got to see this. I'm serious. You really got to see this. Someone died in the bathroom, Mommy."

It was 8 a.m., and I knew I should get up, but I didn't want to. The bed was comfy, and it was still quiet outside, because it's Saturday.

My husband left before sunrise to go fishing, so the only schedule I had worry about was mine, and I never have a schedule. But I still had Ashlyn screaming at me that someone died in the bathroom.

I jumped out of bed angrily and stomped the six-or-so steps to the master bathroom. Ashlyn was correct.

There appeared to be a crime scene in my powder room. There was a zigzag trail of bloody footprints between the vanity and the shower. There was blood spatter on the mirror and down the side of the toilet, and there were three blood-soaked washcloths in the sink.

"Mommy," Ashlyn shouted. "Someone died in all the bathrooms."


And sure enough, it looked like Jack the Ripper had a party in all three of my bathrooms. I found it peculiar that each scene was perfectly contained. There were no trails between the bathrooms--not a single drop of blood on the floor anywhere.

I stood there in the doorway of our downstairs bathroom perplexed--rather impressed that such a thing was possible. I was still very tired, clutching a now-cold cup of coffee in my hand when Ashlyn started screaming again.

"Oh my God, Mommy! It's in your bed too."

WTF! WTF! WTF! WTF!

I hurried back up the stairs, and there was the culprit, my 9-year-old daughter, Lily, with a crusty red face curled up in my bed. She'd obviously had a nosebleed overnight--a bad one by the looks of her and the rest of the house.

"Lidy sure is good at bloody noses. She bleeded in all the bathrooms and all the beds too. Why did she do that, Mommy?"

Why, indeed. And how? How did she bloody every bed and bathroom, and drip nowhere in between?

"No one's dead at least."

Ashlyn shook her head at me like, "Duh, Mom," and climbed into bed next to Lily. I was pretty much awake by this point, so I turned on the computer and sat down

"Hey, Mom," Ashlyn said. "Someone better clean those messes up before Daddy gets home,"

"Yes, Ashlyn. Someone will clean them up before your dad get's home. But I have a feeling he's already seen them."

Comments

  1. Poor Lidy!!! Do you suppose Jackson Pollock started like this???

    ReplyDelete

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