One of the things I rely on to wake me up in the morning is a bracing hit of mouthwash. The bottle sits on a shelf high above the toilet, and when I make my morning deposit I usually reach up for a collateral gargle. Because 1) you can flush it all away in one go, and 2) I'm all about the multitasking.
You might be thinking TMI, and I understand. But the details are important. The key takeaway is: the shelf is very difficult, but not impossible, for an industrious five-year-old to reach.
I put a brand new bottle up there on Sunday night, and as I reached for it Monday morning something was ... off. I gazed at the bottle with my half-dead eyes and rubbed my three-quarters-dead brain. It looked a little darker than usual. Then as my eyes gained focus I saw something else ... floating on the surface. Little seedlings or something.
And then it hit me.
Robert has a Jones for experimentation, to the extent that combining a bunch of random liquids and solids in some vessel or other constitutes something that can improve the public good. When he sets about creating the Next Great Miracle Elixir, he likes to use food coloring. He also often draws from the spice rack, which is reachable and filled with various wonderstuffs. Oregano is a favorite.
While I was out Sunday afternoon, Robert had taken the old bottle from the recycling, filled it with water and green food coloring and godknowswhatelse, and left it on my shelf for me, hoping I would blearily partake.
Basically, my child tried to punk me. And if he hadn't overreached with the oregano, I probably would have launched a big, green spit take all over the shower curtain.
I told Robert I'd almost fallen for it, and he laughed himself sick. That's fine, I said. Funny as all-get-out. Good one! HA! What a brilliant jape! Hee-hee-hee-he is so dead.