When Dad would shower and shave, he would remove his rings and his watch. He hated it if I sat and watched him shave, but every once in a while he would allow it.
One day, when I was two years old, he forgot to put on his watch before leaving the bathroom. When he realized it was missing, he practically tore apart the bathroom looking for it. I believe it belonged to his father, who had recently been diagnosed with cancer. (He died when I was three.)
When he was ready to give up the search, Dad finally decided to give in and ask his beloved daughter if she had any idea where Daddy's watch could be. I looked up at him with my angelic face and said in my sweetest voice, "It's not in the toilet!"
Dad made a beeline for the bathroom and lifted up the lid. Sure enough, there was his watch, at the bottom of the toilet!
Lucky for him, and probably for me, the watch dried out and was functional again for several more years. And thus was born Dad's favorite story to tell everyone I ever met.
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