My mother was out for the afternoon, leaving my dad in sole charge of me. I was just two and a half years old and utterly obsessed with a toy tea set I had recently received as a gift.
Dad was relaxing on the living room couch, completely glued to the evening news, when I began bringing him tiny plastic cups of “tea”—which was really just water. He happily drank cup after cup, showering me with endless praise for being such a wonderful little hostess.
When Mom finally walked through the front door, Dad couldn’t wait to brag. “Honey, you have to sit down and watch this!” he beamed. “It is the absolute cutest thing you’ve ever seen!”
Mom stood by and watched as I proudly toddled down the hallway, carefully handed Dad another fresh cup of water, and beamed as he gulped it down with a giant smile.
Mom paused, stared at the tiny toy cup, and asked in her classic, terrifyingly logical mom voice:
“Did it ever occur to you, dear, that the absolute only place in this entire house low enough for a two-year-old to reach water is the toilet bowl?”
