Usually, after giving my host sister a bath, I tell my host brother that it's his turn. Then, I come back ten minutes later to REMIND him it's his turn. THEN, I physically guide him up the stairs. All that to say, it's always a process. Monday night was out of the ordinary. In the middle of my host sister's bath, my host brother came in, anxious to get in the bath (he had to have been really bored). Anyway, upon finishing up with my host sister, the bath water was low and cold so I left hot water running to fill up the tub for my host brother as I thought he was waiting.
Thirty minutes later, the former au pair had come by to pick up some things she still had stored at the house, and we were talking in the kitchen while the children were eating dinner. All of a sudden, I heard something that sounded like water running. I thought to myself, did someone just turn the water on upstairs? No, everyone who was home was in the kitchen with me. Hmm. I went to check it out.
I walked into the dining room to find a WATER FALL. Water was RUSHING from the bathroom at the top of the stairs, into the hallway, under the stair case, into the DOWNSTAIRS living room.
(the setting)
ZUT, ALORS! I had forgotten to tell my host brother that the bath was ready for him. I couldn't blame anyone. Totally my fault.
I was terrified.
First things first, I rushed upstairs to turn off the running water and unplugged the tub. I went downstairs and realized I had to find something to catch the rush of water that was falling onto the hardwood floors downstairs. By that time, everyone else had come in the living room to check out what was going on. My 7 year old host sister (she's had a birthday since I've been here) burst out into tears! Screaming crying. Who can blame her? At that point, I was questioning whether I should start crying myself. Thank God that the former au pair was there. Not only was she able to comfort the children, she also helped calm me down, and was essential in the cleaning up process. We put a cardboard box that I found in the laundry room in the living room to catch the water. She grabbed towels and started working on the downstairs, while I went to the source of the problem. My goal was to mop up the water as much as possible to stop the flow from upstairs.
After an hour of aggressive cleaning, the house was spotless. The only way you could tell anything had happened was the half-soaked couch in the living room and the disappearance of anything resembling a towel in the entire house (all had been sacrificed in the cleaning process). When the father walked in, I was sitting in the living room with a blow dryer working on the couch. Like any child, my host sister was at her dad's feet in seconds, telling him the most dramatic and incomplete version of the story you could imagine. He looked at me with fear, but once I quickly explained that we got to the water right as it started running into the living room, didn't leave wet towels for too long on the hard wood floors, and everything was now back to normal, he let out a laugh of relief and said it wasn't a big deal. What a blessing! When the mother returned, I was happy to hear that she had once done the exact same thing!
Needless to say, it was a very stressful experience, and I will NEVER leave the water running again. Yikes!
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