Miah found a half-blue, oxidized penny while out for groceries with Aaron this week. She was thrilled, and brought it home, full of plans.
"I'm going to wash it and clean it and it will be so shiny and it's my lucky penny!"
After several attempts, it became clear this penny was permanently altered. Try convincing her of that, though...
7:00pm, and I'm still hearing the water in the bathroom intermittently run. I called her into the room with me and instructed her to "be all done" with the penny washing.
"But it's not clean yet!" she protests.
"I understand, but it's time to be done."
"Mom! It's not all clean!"
"I know, baby, but it's not going to get clean, so I want you to-"
"But mama, I need to finish!"
"Miah, this is your last chance. Do not turn on the water again, understand?"
"I understand." She left the room dejectedly, and I went back to my work.
Roughly four minutes of silence followed. I hear a loud bang and her cries. The littlest, her sister, who has been snuggling up to me on the couch, crawls off my lap and toddle-runs down the hallway to check on the big one, with me just behind. What I saw was straight out of a comedy scene.
Miah was sprawled out, limbs askew, on her back in a puddle of water, her penny on the floor at her fingertips. Crying, of course, but not in extreme pain--more in shock and discomfort.
"Hi sweetie. Are you okay?"
"I... I... I WAS TRYING TO WASH MY PENNY!"
"Yes, I understand, but it looks like you slipped, right? How did all this water get here?"
Then I spotted it. Aaron keeps a small spray bottle in our bathroom for styling his hair. It was on the counter, not the high shelf where it's usually stored.
"Did you spray your penny with the water bottle since Mama said you can't use the sink anymore?"
"Does your head hurt?"
"Yes. Do you wanna see it?"
"Yes, I do."
We ended with kisses, snuggles, and discussions about how bathroom floors are slippery when wet.