I realized this about 20 minutes later, when I walked into our very-small bathroom and collided with the step stool. Pain immediately shot through my entire body, starting at my shin, and exiting as a curse word out of my mouth.
I left the bathroom, and popped my head into Mark's room.
"I just smacked my shin into the step stool you left in the bathroom," I told him. "I hope you don't do the same when I wake you up later, because that really hurt." Then I walked away.
Mark really is a bright boy, and usually, a statement like that would send him scurrying to put the stool away. But an hour later, he was fast asleep, and the step stool was still there.
I simply moved it -- a classic case of picking your battles, and to me, this was not a big one. I just didn't want to bruise my other shin.
When Mark woke up Sunday morning, I noticed something unusual. His hand was blue -- or at least, covered in blue ink.
"What's all over your hand?" I asked, and he smiled sheepishly at me.
I looked closer. In blue ink, he'd written himself a reminder -- "There's a stool in the bathroom. Do not trip. Ouch." There was even a sad face to reinforce the "ouch" part.
I couldn't believe this kid! Instead of getting up and putting the stool away, he wrote himself a note not to trip over it! A note he had no recollection of writing, let alone reading, when I woke him up that night to use the bathroom. (He's a zombie when I wake him -- I usually have to physically point his body toward the bathroom, or else he wanders down the hall.)
"Where'd you get the pen?" I asked.
"From the office," he answered.
"You walked PAST the bathroom, PAST the step stool, and into the office to get a pen?" I asked, incredulous. "And then wrote all over your hand? Instead of just moving the stool?"
He nodded. Made perfect sense to him. And to his shins, which were bruise-free.
Maybe next time, I'll just write myself a note, too.
