"MAYBE HE COULD TRY IT JUST THIS ONCE WITH THE BRUSH"

He just stood there.  

He was concentrating on his work.

His right hand supporting himself on the tank, his left hand wielding the tool.

It's a new word to him, tool.

When he first learned to speak the word tool it came out toot-al.  But he's since learned to speak it properly.

The door had been almost shut, just slightly ajar.  I'd missed him.  His energy, his chatter, so I went looking for him.  Pushing the door ever so gently open, I spied him before he spied me.

The tool was in mid-air but you could see exactly what he'd been doing.  It was dripping with water.  How he  himself didn't get wet, I don't know, that's a mystery.

With the lid up and out of the way, the ring was dripping with water.  You've seen cakes where the baker slowly and steadily pours glaze on the center of the top layer and it drizzles down the sides? 

Well, this toilet ring had water drizzles, they pooled and made droplets, hanging onto the rim.  It was quite pretty, like winter ice holding sunshine to glisten, to make your eyes happy they saw them.

I couldn't say little Jacob was happy to see me.  He was startled.  His eyes got big.  His body did a twitch.  His brain knew this wasn't something he was allowed to do.  But, he'd seen his mother do it.  At GrammyPam's house maybe he could try it just this once with the toilet bowl brush.

The only word ever spoken between us was a stern reprimand, "JACOB!" 

As fast as I've ever seen, the toilet brush got briskly shoved into it's holder. The hands went down to his side.  He was ushered out the door.  His cheeks were flushed.

We each understood the other.  He understood it wasn't something he was allowed to do.  I understood he was a boy needing to learn about the world, and that his needs and can't-dos were battling.  Still the mess was mine to clean up.  It was necessary that I won.  After-all, I was the bigger of the two ...  heading to the super bowl.