Tuesday, June 16, 2009
I have failed
Tonight, I went into the bathroom, only to be greeted with this:
Which (obviously) is wrong.
So I called down the hall: "Hey ... who changed the toilet paper roll?"
Logan poked his head out of his bedroom.
"I did," he answered.
"Oh," I shrugged. I wasn't going to say anything. Really, I wasn't. But he came in to check out what I was checking out.
"Why are you doing that?" he asked as I flipped the roll so that the paper dispensed from the top of the roll. You know--the right way.
"Doesn't it just look better?" I asked, suddenly feeling really silly for having even made an issue out of it. I mean, really--someone changed the roll when it was gone. How massive of an accomplishment is that in this house?
"Uh, no," Logan said, pulling his chin back and screwing his face into the horror of horrors! look that he saves for ER needles and salad dressings that don't start and end with the word "ranch."
"Seriously?" I asked, eyeing the now-symmetrical profile of the roll, draped in its little covering of paper. All was once again at peace in the universe; the roll was happy.
"No," my son reiterated. "I prefer it the other way."
And that was it: the moment when I knew I had completely failed in this endeavor called parenting. Because honestly, if I have not passed on the desire to always have the paper coming out on the top of the roll, what else matters?