We had Thai for dinner tonight, and I really need to use the facilities right now. The problem is that each of our two bathroom's bathtubs are currently occupied by little girls playing with various toys and supposedly washing their bodies. So while I sit here and suffer, writing furiously in a vain attempt to take my mind off of the attack storming the sphincter gates, the girls are splish-splashing and having the time of their lives. If they don't hurry up, there'll be a whole 'nother kind of splish-splashing going on.
Then it occurred to me, "Just go...they do it to you ALL THE TIME!"
Yeah, they do, don't they.
It's true. Whenever I'm in the bathroom getting ready, one of the girls will come storming in and, in one fluid motion, the lid goes up, the pants hit the floor, and they plop down on the pot.
"Why don't you go use the other bathroom? You know, the one that I'm not in?"
"But Daaa-aad, I like this bathroom."
"You're not going to poop, are you?"
"No, I don't think so."
Fart noises echo in pot.
"OK, maybe I do need to go poop."
I then let out an exasperated cry and flee for my life. It happens all the time and it doesn't matter which daughter. They are both equally oblivious.
So maybe tonight I'll teach them a little lesson in bathroom etiquette. See how they like it when their old man comes in during bath-time and takes a Thai-laden dump mere inches away from where they're bathing. Perhaps after tonight the other bathroom won't look so bad.
Oops. Gotta go.
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
Revenge, Montezuma-Style
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2 comments:
Dude, use whatever tools are in your child-control arsenal. "Dad gas" may be one of the few remaining things that can get you peace, quiet, and privacy, and which has not yet been made illegal for use on children.
http://muddleman.livejournal.com
I'm with you on that, MM. Unfortunately, by the time I finished writing this post (the fastest post in my nearly 1.5 years of blogging, I might add), the girls had finished their baths and I was able to poop in peace. Wow, that looks a lot worse written out than it sounds in your head. At any rate, the "lesson" will have to wait...until tomorrow night's Mexican feast! Arriba!
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