Today I was reminded of a story about something that happened a few months ago.
Benjamin was going through a phase where he would use the bathroom and then stay in there just playing with stuff he found. One day while my brother and sister-in-law were visiting he was doing just that. Just before they left, my sister-in-law needed to use the bathroom, so we gave him fair warning that he'd have to come out in a minute.
When she couldn't wait any longer, we told him, ready or not, we were comin' in.
He was at the sink with a big roll of toilet paper under the running water. Half dissolved tissue was oozing off in the standing water (since the drain was pretty well clogged with the same substance).
In the flurry of vacating the bathroom, making the sink operable again, saying goodbye to my family members, telling Benjamin not to put toilet paper in the sink, etc., we didn't really discuss what on Earth he was trying to do.
Once it was calm, we asked. He earnestly answered, "Well, the toilet paper fell in the toilet. I was just trying to wash it off."
It broke our hearts. Conscientious to a fault. A big soggy, messy, gloppy fault.