So me and the fam are having a nice little lunch when my wife remembers what she had forgotten to do downstairs.
She stops halfway down and ask," Billy... did you and Sofia spill any water downstairs?"
Apparently the washing machine suffered some kind of sensor malfunction and never shut the water of when the basin was full. It did this for forty-five minutes.
The next thing I knew, I was calling the shopvak a cockless son-of-a-whore, while my wife was calling in a clean-up up crew, and my eldest daughter was singing a little ditty about how she just pooped her pants.
It turns out that she did, and that a small chunk of turd fell on the floor while she was dancing to the beat of her little impromptu jam. I had to pick up said turd with my bare hand before my youngest picked it up with hers.
She's still at the stage where everything goes into her mouth first.
How was you Saturday?