It's Brice Time Again

It's been a while since I've had something funny to write about Brice. He's growing up. He used to give me so much fodder for blogging that I couldn't even come close to including it all...but as he gets bigger he seems to be aging out of his priceless antics. Okay, or maybe not...but they certainly aren't as frequent as they used to be.
He had a real gem yesterday though. Our upstairs toilet, the one in the boys' bathroom, has been leaky. Because we are super lame parents and procrastinate horribly, we haven't yet fixed the leak. We've been coping by teaching the kids to turn off the water so it doesn't run and only turn it back on to flush the toilet. Well, Albert has been teaching them this. I regard that boys' bathroom as a destination worse than hell itself and don't like to go near it. When I must pass it on the way to my own bedroom, I hold my breath and dart by. Yes, its that bad.
Anyway, surprise, surprise, someone turned it on to flush it and forgot to turn it back off. The result, by the time we noticed it, was flooding. All over the cheapo linoleum and about a foot onto the carpet. When I came downstairs, I noted that the ceiling was leaking and the carpet in the living room and the laundry room (which is the kitten's new digs) was also leaky and wet. And my office chair was soaked.
The most remarkable thing though was that one of the main areas of leakage, was the ceiling fan in the living room. I told the kids not to touch it or turn in on, as water was drip, drip, dripping from it, onto the floor.
A few minutes later, as Albert and the older boys scurried to soak up the leaks and I corralled the littles out of the way (from the comfort of the couch while I also talked on the phone to my mom), Brice appeared on the scene. Big grin, wide eyes, typical Brice delight at the disaster before us. As I chatted with my mom, and kept the little ones from getting in the wet spots or trying to go upstairs to explore the great flood, I noticed Brice standing very still in one spot. I looked harder, focusing on what he was doing. There he stood. Still. Head tipped back. Mouth Open. Directly under the leak.
Telling my mom to hold on briefly, I said to him, "Brice. That's toilet water leaking. You might not want to stand under the leak with your mouth open."
Brice looked at me and grinned. Then tipped his head backwards again, and continued.
Oh well. He was warned.