I sniffed the air, becoming belatedly aware that the bathroom now smelled like a spicy Moroccan bazaar...afire.
Fixing Devon with my best Evil Mom Eye, I asked in a steely voice, "What were you doing in here?"
Devon looked at me, wide-eyed. I could see every fleck of green in his beautiful hazel eyes, so different than the dark brown of the rest of the family. It took him a moment for him to get the words out.
"Trying to set my poop on fire."
At last, holding my sides and gasping for breath, I wheezed at him, "You can see that I am laughing. What you did was still very bad, and very dangerous. If you EVER DO IT AGAIN, I will be laughing while I paddle your bottom."
I didn't want to ask the rest. Visions of taking him into the ER with rectal burns danced in my head. Maybe we would even get the same doctor that treated his mouse bite. Simply consoling myself that he didn't seem uncomfortable wasn't enough.
It was a great relief to find out the the attempt at incineration had not been made until the fecal material had taken up full residence in the porcelain immolation chamber. His lily-pink ahem person had not been directly endangered.
There remained only one question.
He twinkled up at me as he answered. "I was just trying to discover a Science Fact."
The preacher yesterday said that a group of 2-4 year olds were tested, and 95% of them were found to be extremely creative. By the time they were 7, only 4% remained extremely creative. The rest had the creativity ground out of them by adults telling them not to ask questions. So I want to be very careful how I phrase this.
Devon, questions are bad. Do not ask questions. Do not try to find out how things work. Do not attempt to explore, discover, or find out anything. Just a little class - is that too much to ask?
Here's to science,