It was one of those hot, sultry days in mid-August. The air was so wet each breath felt like a warm drink of water. Suddenly, a piercing scream interrupted the buzz of the fly that I felt too tired to swat.

Mopping the sweat off my brow, and with a deep sigh, I managed to maneuver my eight and a half month pregnant, tank like frame out of the chair and negociate down the hallway. Mommy! Mommy!

The two year old had simply flushed his "Sponge Bob Square Pants" action numbers down the toilet. Rather than regurgitating the plastic figure, the porcelin monster was spewing forth like Old Faithful. If thing wasn't done soon, our neighborhood would be be offering beach front property in the middle of the desert!

Where was my hero? Wherever was that knight in