I keep waiting for a green, slimy hand to come reaching up out of the kitchen sink. Like the plot for some cheesy old horror movie.
"The sink hurts," Bailey announced.
"The sink hurt Bailey?" Daddy asked puzzled.
"No, the sink hurts. It hurts. It hurts," he said on the verge of tears.
"Ok, what can Daddy do?"
"The sink hurts. The sink hurts."
They go to investigate. Hubs holds Bailey so he can look down into the sink. He points to the dirty dishes. "The sink hurts."
"Should we wash the dishes?"
"Uh-huh," Bailey replies.
Hubs set about washing the dishes and Bailey sat down on the sofa to watch TV. Every once in a while, he would look up and say, "The sink hurts."
The dishes were finished, the sink was clean, but Bailey still wasn't happy. His tears and pleas increased. "The sink hurts. The sink HURTS!! THE SINK HURTS!!!"
He cried on and off until we left the house to go to school. Any ideas as to what that was all about, because Hubs and I have no idea whatsoever.