Me, after walking past The Kid’s bathroom and seeing an avalanche of clothes, towels, and detritus, “Kid? It would sure be nice if your bathroom didn’t look like a battle zone.
“And also if it were accessible.”
I take a second look, “To people. Without ice axes and pulley systems that not everyone has handy all the time…”
The Kid, eager to set my delicate mind at ease and being an amazing problem solver, closes the door and says to me, “Schrödinger’s bathroom, mom.”
Me, marveling at her genius, “So what you’re saying is… your bathroom is both clean… and a war zone… at the same time?”
The Kid, who is going to ace all of the quantum sciences, “Yes. That is what I am saying.”
The Kid’s eyebrows raise in surprise at this. She was expecting some sort of “clean the bathroom or else” ultimatum.
Me, shrugging, “If it’s good enough for Schrödinger, it’s good enough for me. Dude was a genius.”
The Kid, ever one to capitalize on an opportunity, runs off.
The Kid was probably a sign maker in a past life.
The next time I pass the bathroom door, I see evidence of this-
You may never have to clean that bathroom again.
[For those not in the know: Schrödinger’s Cat]