My limitations of acceptance are pretty high. Except for...the toilet.
Living in a house full of boys, I'd have to say that I yearn...dare I say it...DREAM of the day that I can simply walk into the bathroom and mindlessly sit down. A dry, clean toilet seat doesn't seem like much one would think...but when the days become months and the months become years...it can start to take its toll.
The hard part is, you never really know who to blame it on. It's been so long since we've potty trained them or followed them into the bathroom and it's hard to explain what happens when three young boys get ready for school or for bed. At times it's nothing short of utter chaos.
You can hear the culpable behavior behind closed doors, between bursts of giggling..."I'll get you Luke Skywalker! Pwshew, Pwshew!" "NOOOOOOOOOOO!" "You're next Darth Vader!" (enter...the breathing)
Last night around 2:00 am, our six year son old shuffled down the hall saying that he had "to go" and that he needed a drink of water. This is pretty common, so shifting into autopilot, I pulled myself out of bed to help him. Instead of going to the kitchen however, I went to the bathroom with him.
There it was.
He was standing in the dark, about two feet away from the toilet...just going to town. I swear that his eyes were still closed and I doubt he even looked to see if the lid was open or closed.
"What Mommy?" He whispered half asleep as he turned to face me.
Spraying everything, he got the wall, the floor...
"No, No! Turn back around! Buddy, you have to get it in the toilet!"
"Okay. I'm done though. G'night mommy." I stood in what could now pass as a truck stop, while his little bare feet carried him back to bed.
No, I don't ask for much. Food, water...mostly happy husband and kids...and the hope that one day, in a galaxy far, far away...our bathroom will be Springtime fresh, clean and dry.
One can dream...
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