Don't go in there!

That's exactly what I just told my husband.

Terisa and Robbie Jr were abnormally silent, then I heard a giggle. As usual, I called them out of the bathroom. They love to go in there and fiddle around. I have never seen children with such a toothbrushing obsession. I thought that's what they were doing, so I went to investigate. Terisa opened the door and grinned, motioning me in to see her handiwork.

Bad, bad children. See the evil?

Maybe I should say her brother's handiwork. I bought a garden sprayer a while back for various reasons. It had been left in the bathroom with water in it and some pressure, too. Robbie was sitting on the little stool his great-grandma built sprayer in hand. I wasn't too upset because it was only the floor and the toilet wet.

I sent the kids out because, well...you know how it is when you are pregnant. You need to go pretty often. In a second I felt something cold and wet on my forehead, looked up, and what do I see? The entire ceiling was covered in big, fat drops of water. Ever sit on the potty longer than needed because of shock? Yeah, well now I have.

The mist was fine enough that I didn't see the water film on every item in the room. But the rain drops from the ceiling woke me up to that fact that as Terisa excitedly pointed out, Robbie really was cleaning the bathroom. I walked out and sat down here to tell you about it. Before I bagan to type I told my husband :

"Don't go in there."

Hubby: "Where? The bathroom? Why?"

"There's a rainstorm."

Hubby: "What?!? What do you mean?"

"Trust me."