In Which the Alarm Clock Dies a Slow Death

I spoke too soon in saying I don't have anything to complain about the boy.

The boy likes to experiment, usually by dropping items into larger containers. He likes to study the reaction and hear the different sounds. Usually it's random items into an empty bathtub, or toys into the laundry hamper. (I'm still missing a sippy cup half-full of milk. I shudder to think what it'll look like when I do find it.)

This morning, he decided to try something new. He likes to play with daddy's alarm clock and usually takes off with it down the hall or into his room.

The conversation went like this:

Boy: "eeeeee!" ::running around with alarm clock::

::silence::

Audrey, who was supposed to be going potty: "Mom! Come look! There's something in the potty!"

Last thing I wanted to do is get up and view the contents of the potty. "That's great, Audrey. Make sure you flush and wash your hands."

Audrey: "No Mom, come here! Brother put something into the potty!"

This is when the dread washed over me. (Please tell me he didn't...)

He did.

At exactly 7:37 am, the alarm clock stopped ticking, submerged in the potty. (At least she hadn't used it yet.)

I fished it out and set it on the counter to dry out, hoping it might still work. When I came back to it a few hours later, it was ticking again, so there's a chance...

Nope. The alarm clock has now ticked its last.