in my experience with the girlies three, toilets and bidets and the like are not always used as their inventors' intended. no matter how i threaten or use scary phrases like "or else."
no one in the history of no ones has ever been scared of me. i may be bitter about this fact.
anyway. toilets become escape hatches for tiny dolls on the run, rubbish bins for the lazier of the three, and evidence concealers for anyone in a panic when faced with the question "where is my nars?"
also, bidets are the perfect hot tubs for the above-mentioned dolls on the run. after they make bail.
yesterday, esmé all-of-a-sudden appeared next to me. as quiet and as pale as a ghost. circles for her eyes and mouth.
"i just peeped a feathah," she whispered.
i debated. i did. was this an opportunity to teach her not to throw feathers away in the toilet? once again? or was it the chance to scare her silly from eating items that should not be eaten?
as she walked away, i heard her dazed and confused mumble, "i don't remembah eating a pink feathah."
i tire of finding toys in the toilet. never tire of words to wear. aurora lopez mejia here.