Rites of Passage

It is never a good thing when your 4 year old comes out of the bathroom and tells you, "Mommy, I think the toilet is clogged." Those are exactly the words I heard this morning as we were trying to get out of the house for a 10:00 play date. Turns out the toilet was clogged due to some over zealous toilet papering. Thankfully it was easily fixed with the plunger.

This episode got me thinking about these little rites of passage that all kids experience - first bee sting, slamming a finger in the car door, letting go of a helium balloon, getting gum in the hair, first s'more (see picture) losing a blanket or lovey, getting a hold of scissors and cutting some hair, losing the scoop of ice cream from its cone and seeing how much toilet paper can fit in a toilet. I still remember when I clogged the toilet with toilet paper and, unfortunately for me, it didn't just clog, it flooded through the floor into my parents' bathroom as well. I don't think I flushed the toilet for a year after that happened.

My 4 year old happened to experience TWO of these rites within 14 hours of each other. The evening before the toilet paper caper, she tackled the "locks on doors" curiosity. It played out like this:

At 7:10 the 3 of us go upstairs to put the youngest to bed for the night. I noticed that her door is shut which is unusual. I try to open the door but it won't open. I try again. I surmise that the cloth mobile which hangs on her doorknob must have gotten stuck in the door. The door must be jammed shut. So I begin to bang, twist, knock on the door when my 4 year old looks at me and says, "It won't open because it is locked." What? So I get the metal pin from my top dresser drawer that is supposed to unlock the door. I jam it, wiggle it, poke it, swirl it, shove it, and twist it but I can't get the lock to pop. The whole time I'm doing this I'm lecturing my daughter, "Don't ever lock the door again. Locks are not for playing with." And she repeatedly responds with, "I'm really really really really sorry, Mommy." Eventually I call my (awesome) neighbor who pops it open in under a minute.

Whew. Funny how these rites of passage seem to be rites for the parent as well. Pretty sure my husband is due for the next one.