My husband is a wonderful problem solver. Usually. But the other day he announced, "Hey
Treyton...come over here. I need your help." I knew this couldn't be good. The last time he said that phrase, in that tone, my son stuck his hand up a toilet to
retreive a truck that
accidently got flushed by Little Miss Galina. Bryce's excuse...."My hands aren't small enough to reach it." Yeah, right.
So this time there were somethings that had fallen behind the TV... a sock, a Daisy toy, a video tape. Don't ask how the sock got there. Anyways, he took my boy and showed him the "treasures". Next, to my horror, he took the kid by his feet and did this...
Like a needle and thread.
He send
Treyton in after the lost items.
By his feet.
Poor kid. I'll understand if he'll need counseling for this in the future.
But the good news is he got all the items, unharmed. In fact, I think I saw a little pride (?) on his face after the incident.
Treyton's too.
So this time there were somethings that had fallen behind the TV... a sock, a Daisy toy, a video tape. Don't ask how the sock got there. Anyways, he took my boy and showed him the "treasures". Next, to my horror, he took the kid by his feet and did this...
Like a needle and thread.
He send Treyton in after the lost items.
By his feet.
Poor kid. I'll understand if he'll need counseling for this in the future.
But the good news is he got all the items, unharmed. In fact, I think I saw a little pride (?) on his face after the incident. Treyton's too.
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