Thinking about having kids? Let me tell you a story.
I was in the shower this morning, minding my own business, when I heard the bathroom door open. I heard my wife say something about “upstairs potty” and the Squirt making some noises of protest, and then the door closes again. No problem, thought I.
A moment later I hear a little voice humming the Indiana Jones theme music. (See, for the Squirt, who is 4, pooping is an adventure worthy of theme music.)
“Who’s out there?” I ask.
“Me!” Yep, the Squirt. “I’m poopin’!”
Swell. I wait.
Then the smell hits me. I don’t know what we’ve been feeding this kid, but I think it had been dead just a little too long. When I made gagging noises, he laughed and laughed. I begged him to give his old man a courtesy flush.
“I can’t! I’m not done poopin’!”
I explained the courtesy flush as my eyes watered and I choked on the stench. I swear the grout between the shower tiles was melting.
This is about the time the door opened again and the Wife stepped in. She flushed the toilet, prompting a round of water works. It went something like this:
“WAAAAAAHHHHH!!! Now I can’t finish poopin’!”
“You can, too, now do what your father says!”
I explained that yes, he can very easily finish poopin’, and he should do so and get going so Daddy can get out of the shower and finish getting ready for work. I explained once again that the Courtesy Flush is a Good Thing, especially in public restrooms or when Daddy is trapped in a Fog of Doom.
The door opens. Our front door is directly up half a flight of stairs from the bathroom door, and I can hear the kids we babysit and their mother (who also happens to be a co-worker) in the foyer talking to the Wife. The kids are excited because they have playtime before school and the wives are chatting it up.
The door does not close.
The Squirt returns to the bathroom. To close the door? No, to wash his hands. I hear the Wife telling him to close the door for Daddy. Kids are running everywhere. The women are laughing. I tell the Squirt to close the door.
“I can’t, I’m drying my hands!”
Gah. Finally he closes the door. I turn off the shower, start to open the curtain. Wait, the door opens again! The door was not closed tight, and rather than just shoving it closed, the Squirt has to open the door and then close the door.
Fortunately I’m a brown belt and with my amazing catlike reflexes I was able to throw the shower curtain closed and spare the world the site of my fat, wet, naked ass.
This is the life of a parent.
You have been warned.