One of the most relaxing parts of the day for me is when I'm able to sit my ass on the crapper and read the newspaper. Lisa always rolls her eyes in disgust when I take my sweet time on the toilet, but I tell her I use the time wisely by not only educating myself with world events, but also grooming my knee hairs at the same time.
I think with the kids, I value my time in the bathroom even more. It's like a little vacation. A stinky vacation, but a vacation nonetheless.
Today, I told Lisa I was going on my little getaway while she was getting the kids out of the bath. I went into the master bathroom, pulled down my lederhosen, and gave my ass a little encouragement.
As I chuckled at the crazy antics of Cathy, I heard a distinctive scream coming from the living room.
"DADA!" screamed Andrew.
Hmm. He must have escaped from his bedroom. No matter. He'll be fine.
Soon I heard Andrew trying to open the master bedroom door. Our master bedroom door is more difficult for the kids to open because they are handles instead of knobs. That is why I wasn't concerned that Andrew would...
Crap. I think he opened the door. Crap. I need to do more crap.
"Dada? Dada?" whined Andrew as he walked through our bedroom.
I began to get flustered and nervous about Andrew wandering in our bedroom while I was not finished feeding the toilet. I figured the best thing to do was to tell Andrew to go back to Lisa.
"Andrew," I called. "Please go see, Mommy!"
"DADA!" said Andrew with delight. Moments later I heard Andrew at the bathroom door.
"Please," I pleaded. "Please go back to Mommy!"
"Dada, what you doing? Dada, open door!" Andrew demanded.
I really got anxious about this whole ordeal. I still had to empty my tank, Andrew was wandering around our bedroom, and now he wanted to come into the bathroom to see me in a delicate, yet odorous situation.
But I didn't have to decide what my next move was going to be because Andrew decided it for me: he entered the bathroom.
"Daddy!" he smiled. And as he saw me sitting on the toilet, he took a whiff on the room and said, "Daddy stinky!"
Great. Now I not only feel vulnerable, but utterly embarrassed by a two year old.
I tried to push Andrew out of the bathroom, but he was incredibly curious about seeing his dad on the toilet. I almost got him out, but Andrew caught in the corner of his eye our scale.
"What dat?" he asked as he began to jump on it.
You have to visualize -- if you're brave enough -- that the scale is between the toilet and the edge of the bathtub; there is very little room. So Andrew is rubbing against my pants, underwear, leg, and ass cheek because he is running and jumping all over our bathroom scale.
I finally had to resort to something drastic. I shouted, "Andrew! Mommy's on fire!"
Sadly, Andrew did not have a concept of fire or how dangerous it would be for a person to be on a fire. So I changed tactics and said, "Andrew! Mommy has a cookie for you!"
Thankfully, Andrew ran away looking for a nonexistent cookie from Lisa. I can't tell you how relieved I was that I finally had privacy again. You'd think after almost three years, I would have given up on any semblance of "me time", but you honestly have to find moments throughout the day to regroup and reenergize. I guess if I have to give up my fifteen minutes of newspaper reading while pooping, I will just have to draw a line and tell Lisa there is no way I'm going to give up my five minutes of Kindle reading while peeing.
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