It wasn’t until later that afternoon, after hours of rollercoasters, overpriced lemonade, and a full-blown meltdown from a very sunburned Rick, that we finally walked back into the house.
The second we opened the front door, I knew something was wrong.
My foot made a splashing sound.
Water. Cold water. It had crept across the entire living room floor. The brand-new carpet we’d laid with our own hands was soaked through. Boxes of things we hadn’t even unpacked yet were half-submerged. The wallpaper we’d argued so much over had bubbled at the seams.
“Oh my God,” I breathed.
“Mom… what happened?” Alice asked behind me.
I ran toward the guest bathroom. The toilet was overflowing, still running, and spilling water onto the floor. Someone had jammed the flush button down so hard that it was stuck in place. Inside the bowl, mashed and swelling like some science experiment, was a lump of Play-Doh.
My heart sank.
