Bathroom time is an unusual event in my household. (When it occurs) It usually has to involve a bowl movement. A group bowl movement. Because Tornado E NEEDS company. Apparently I haven’t done my job in teaching him that bathroom time means privacy. I try to lead by example, guarding my bathroom time as my only alone time throughout the day. (Ok, not quite; I still have an hour of nap time or so, but still). Now if only I could shut and lock the door without fear that someone would end up bloody or something valuable be broken. Not that we have anything of value anymore except the TV, the Wii, and the computer. Even my jewelry box is not sacred.
So Tornado E NEEDS company as he’s sitting on the john. And I can’t take the smell any more. I did my years of potty training, waiting with grace as I read one book after another, coming up with stimulating stories, wiping his @ss too many times. I just Can. Not. Take that smell. Anymore.
Since I get to plead out to do things like diaper changes, feeding, dishes, cooking, sweeping, wrestling with an alligator, and picking my nose, Tornado E has learned to con his little brother to sit with him. Tornado S will bring Tornado E any toy or book that Tornado E fancies at that moment. Then they will proceed to play and tell stories for a half hour.
Often Tornado S gets the urge to relieve himself, and then the bathroom is doubly stinky. Tornado E sits on the toilet, and Tornado S sits on the training potty (because they need to go to the bathroom at the same time more often that not). They face each other. They tell stories, read books, play with their Jedis or pirates.
Maybe it’s my fault. I do take longer in the restroom than needed if I can. Mommy needs her peace. And during the summer, it’s too hot to hide in the garage for too long. In the winter, it’s too cold. Besides I can always lock the bathroom door, if I don’t mind boys banging on it, demanding that I let them in or that I come get them something to eat/play with/drink. So maybe I’ve set a bad example there.
But nothing could prepare me for the feces smear across the toilet because Tornado E had gone, not wiped, and moved to the edge of the seat to finish his game with Tornado S. Ewwwwww.
Boys are so gross.