When you have a child in the house who stayed home from school with vague, flu-like symptoms, hearing something that sounds like water hitting the floor in intermittent torrents, is quite alarming.
Especially if you are awoken, after falling asleep in front of the TV, to the show "25 Sexiest Cover Girls" and you don't even remember changing the channel to E!.
I immediately figured "Shoot. Hooman isn't over this" and headed straight for him.
But I was stopped as I passed The Babe's room because something was wrong. Horribly wrong.
There was a puddle of "water" on the floor at the entrance to his room. The lights were turned all the way up to "blindingly high for this hour of the night" and there was a little guy, vertical, doing his best impression of "water the garden so the plants grow big and tall and healthy."
Except, I don't think sealed hardwood floors actually grow.
When I say a puddle, that is just the beginning. How, I don't know, but that boy managed to create a STREAM, emanating 6 inches in front of him all the way to the entrance to his room.*
And, as I came in and gently tried to wake him up, he put the finishing squirt on his business and SHOOK. I swear. Then he returned his property to its rightful holder, turned around, crawled back into bed, and pulled up the covers.**
Even stranger than that? There was a roll of toilet paper on the shelf hook where his hoodies usually hang at the head of the bed.
I don't even want to know what that is there for. And I'm sure as heck not going to venture to that side of the bed unless something starts smelling afoul.
*Just so you wouldn't think I was full of crap, this morning I measured. This was a FOUR FOOT water event. At the least. No lie.
**Now, how can a sleep-walking boy manage to keep his pj bottoms dry while peeing out of the top of his britches when a grown woman can't manage that fully awake, squatting in the woods?