Like Father, Like Daughter

I remember being a kid (Don't you? No? Well, that's a shame.). Our house only had three bathrooms.

Now before you get all, like, "Whaaaat?? ONLY three???" keep in mind there were nine of us and any number of guests at any given time that needed to use those bathrooms (but, if you were like me and Emily, you could just pee in the bucket out in the side yard if the need was great enough. I still don't remember what we did with it when it got full...oh well...man...we used that bucket for everything. We put abalone shells in it, complete with the fish inside, and we put rolly pollies in it...and I think we used that very same bucket to make "witch's brew." Why give kids toys--and arguably, a toilet--Just give them a bucket.).

Anyway, in our house growing up there was only one bathroom on the main floor. It was Mom and Dad's bathroom, but to a little kid with a tiny bladder, holding it while going up two flights of stairs was risky, so it was worth hazarding Mom and Dad's so one didn't piddle on the carpet.

Unfortunately, Dad had a really, really bad habit of not locking the door (or even fully closing the door) when he was doing his business. So, if you marched into the bathroom, there was a 50/50 chance that you would startle the dragon and go running for your life, because it was somehow YOUR fault that you walked in.

I understand the need for privacy. I mean, going piddle isn't exactly flattering, or even exciting, and most of the time, having someone watch you makes it so you can't go. But I didn't understand Dad's reaction, really (I mean, come on..there was a working lock for Pete's sake).

Fast forward 20 years.

Picture, if you will (but you probably won't want to once I tell you what I want you to picture), me in the little girl's room. I am in there 19 seconds, and Eva opens the door.

"Mom? Are you going tinkle?"

"SHUT THE DOOR!"

10 seconds later, Josh opens the door.

"Hey, can I have some bread?" And then turns to give himself a dashing smile in the mirror.

"S H U T T H E D O O R!!"

3 seconds later, Lily pushes open the door, giggles and then attempts to smash all my perfume bottle on the tile.

"JOSH! GRAB LILY AND SHUT THE DOOR!"

After the children leave, Pepper pushes open the door, hops in the tub, and after her feet are all nice and wet, decides my lap is a good place for a nap.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME??!??

Yes. This happens almost EVERY DAY.

And why don't I lock the door, you ask? Like father, like daughter maybe?

No.

I DO lock it (but, really, I feel like I shouldn't have to, ya know? I mean, sheesh...going to the little girl's room shouldn't be a beacon for every living creature in the house to come and see what you are doing...).

I live with a whole bunch of Houdinis (that, and the lock leaves much to be desired. Let's just say that when I get in the mood to be obnoxious to Jeremy, I can't hide in the bathroom, which is usually the first place you'd think of. I mean, you have water, and a toilet, and in a pinch you could eat the toilet paper, depending on how long you needed to be in there, which probably was equal to how mad you made someone...).

I understand Dad's volcanic eruptions now. Except...he really should have locked the door.