I am happy to report that Don Threeto has learned an important lesson in personal responsibility. First though, I have recently discovered that the female form of a mafia Don is Donna. Heretofore Don Threeto shall be known as Donna Threeto or still DT for short. If you are asking “Who is Don Threeto?” then click the link and come back here when you are done.

Okay, so I came home the other day to find Donna happily playing with a yellow bouncy ball that she got from school. Lady Bug was following her around as they bounced it into walls and down the hallway. Jane was giving orders on where to bounce the ball and how hard. After a few moments of giggling I heard a splash followed by a few moments of pregnant silence that eventually gave birth to “Daaadddd!” I walked to the rear of the house and found three children in a semi-circle around the toilet, staring into the depths of the murky water.

It might be worth mentioning that in the world of toilet training the only step that none of my children have mastered is the art of flushing. Just yesterday I came home to find the dog drinking from the toilet. I knew the water might have been tainted so I chased Judy Cornbread from the bathroom and flushed the toilet for good measure. I wasn’t prepared. There was a mountain of milk-dud turds rising from the dark yellow toilet water like a mid-sea volcano. A driftwood line of toilet paper was the only evidence of the previous water level. Judy stood in the hallway licking her lips. Apparently, pee-turd-tea is a canine delicacy. Now back to the story…

Luckily, when the bouncy ball fell into the toilet it found a much cleaner environment. I looked in and the smiley face was sitting on the bottom of the bowl looking up at the four of us.

“Get it daddy”, urges the Donna.

“Oh no. If you want your ball then you have to get it out. I’ll just flush it.”

“But I got it from school! It’s my ball!”, she pleads.

“Exactly. Your ball. Not mine. If you want it then you get it.”

The pleading gets redirected to her sister, “Get it for me Jane! Help me!”

At this point I stepped back and watched the negotiations between the children. I could have just as easily have been watching three superpower countries discussing nuclear disarmament. In the end, all the nations reached the same conclusion; The ball belongs to Donna Threeto so she should retrieve it. I was proud at their learning progress and realization of what skin-in-the-game looks like. I was doubly proud when DT rolled up her sleeve and closed her eyes before plunging her hand into the toilet water. She was not prepared to lose that ball and I was fully prepared to flush it.

We washed the ball and her hands. Her sisters stood silently in awe of her bravery. Donna added to her already impressive list of street-cred.

If you are tired of putting up with crappy situations, this post is for you. You’re welcome.

-Underdaddy to the rescue.