Asking For It

You know, sometimes your child comes to you with questions and you think the best answer would be succinct, true (of course) and raise as few OTHER questions as possible. Sometimes, of course, children come up with whoppers and you find yourself in a Southwest Airlines "Wanna get away?" ad. Sometimes, though, I find myself with the questions. And occasionally, my question is immediately visible in a labyrinth of other questions.
Yesterday, the boys had to do their weekly collection of laundry to bring down to the washer--a fairly basic chore for children their ages. While I was cleaning out the office, E shouts from upstairs:
"Sorry, Mom. I accidentally threw half of one of your shirts in the toilet."
"Mmm-hmm." I go back to work...processing....wait for it...the words are registering in the correct order now...a visual is forming....NOW
"You did WHAT?" Question #1
"Accidentally threw half of one of your shirts in the toilet."
Suddenly, as though the green flag were thrown, questions race around my head: Half? Threw? Flush? Accidentally? HUH? I could understand each individual word, but in that order, I found them baffling.
Sometimes, of course, as I teach my children every day, it is better just to keep one's mouth shut. Which I did. Those questions have answers I should probably live without.
Children manage feats incomprehensible to those of us who are over 4 feet tall. They can transform the most basic tasks into Criss Angel-inspired mysteries. I am stunned by the bizarreness, the intricacy, and the enormity of their messes and mishaps. I am grateful that we usually escape hospital-grade injuries, because no ER Dr. would ever believe my stories.
Of course after the kids managed to get the laundry down to the washing machine, E had a question of his own:
"Haven't you always wanted to live in a castle?"
Processing...out of nowhere...does he want something...unclear....trick question?
"There's a HUGE laundry castle for you in the laundry room. It's tall enough for you to live in!!"
Another answer that I could probably live without.