I recently moved into a lovely new home and hands down my favorite amenity is the large jetted tub sitting majestically in my bathroom. It’s huge, easily big enough for two and deep enough to sink down and be completely submerged to your neck. The kind of tub every girl dreams of and in my possession for the first time in my adult life.
It was a beautiful Saturday. I had recently showered and was getting ready for an afternoon appointment, standing in front of the large mirrored vanity that sits parallel to the tub. My two daughters, ages 13 and 3 came barreling through the door, bored and looking for something to do. After providing several suggestions on activities they could do OUT of my bathroom, they instead decide it’s a perfect time to inaugurate my tub which until now has been off limits to them.
All is well and good. The toddler is laughing and splashing in the tub. The teenager is sitting on the edge chatting and smiling. The mommy is listening to them and enjoying their banter back and forth. It was precisely at this idyllic moment, all hell broke loose and the bathroom erupted into a watery chaos.
Only a few moments before, unbeknownst to me, the toddler’s curious little hand had poked a finger into an empty jet and wiggled it around until it was pointed straight up. Simultaneously, the teenager turned off the running water stopping the tub from filling any further than just below the jet level. Thinking it would be fun to see the toddler playing in the bubbly water, she innocently pressed the magic button and unwittingly released a torrent of water spewing into the bathroom from the jet now aimed directly at the ceiling.
In an instant, my bathroom was transformed. My brain ceased to function. For a brief moment I actually thought a fire truck had pulled into our back yard, opened the bathroom window, stuck in a fire hose and turned it on full blast. I was frozen in place as a massive jet of water pummeled me on its beeline path to blast the mirror and be reflected into millions of watery drops that saturate everything in their path.
That is when clarity intervened and I realized the true source of the water geyser. Slipping and sliding my way across the room, heading directly into the source of blasting water, I stretched out with all my might and managed to un-press the magic button. The water stopped instantly, peace was restored and we were all left in silence, dripping wet, unable to speak. The only sound was that of water drops falling from the ceiling, into puddles on the floor.
I’d love to say I laughed it off, but this isn’t fiction. Momma bear was not happy to be standing drenched in the remains of her dream bathroom. Using the uncanny sense all teenagers possess when they realize they are about to become homeless, my older daughter ran for towels and began sopping up water without being told to do so. That is the only thing that saved her.
After momma bear changed into dry clothes and regained her composure she realized no real harm was done and in fact had learned a valuable lesson. You may be thinking this lesson is “Always fill the tub ABOVE the jets before you turn it on”. A good summation and one my teenager would probably agree with as I am certain this is a life experience she will never forget. For me however, the moral to the story was slightly different and a little more safety minded. Never forget, if your bathroom is ever on fire and you have a jetted tub, it can easily be converted to a fire hose with just the press of a button.