We have two full bathrooms, but we really need, like, a kajillion to get baths/showers done in a reasonable amount of time. Growing up in a house of estrogen with my mom and sisters, there was never really a distinction between "Mom's" bathroom and "our" bathroom. Mom only showered and prepped in her bathroom, but my sisters and I used whichever one was open and Mom wasn't really big on making a point of banning us from hers "just because" it was her bedroom.
I've slowly come to realize after several years of parenting more than twice as many children as I have bathrooms that I would rather not adapt this philosophy, especially because 3 out of 5 of those children are boys. Boys, I have learned, have a tendency to pee on things. Like my toilet seat. I've seen each of them zone out mid-pee and their careful, downspout aims go wayward. Case in point – this morning Jordan staggered into my bathroom and in his 6:30 a.m. haze, dropped trou, miscalculated, and started sprinkling the upturned lid of the toilet.
"Jordan!" I exclaimed, having seen this reflected in the mirror where I was washing my face. He turned, but instead of turning just his head, he twisted his entire body. While still peeing. Like a tank he dropped pee bombs, a careful arc of yellow ammunition hitting the wall and the floor.
"KID! WATCH WHAT YOU'RE DOING! YOU'RE PEEING ALL OVER THE PLACE!"
"Oops," said The Boy with the BattleWeenie.
The Teej had an "oops" moment last night of a different variety in my bathroom. Having just showered, he came into the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist (as usual) and another wrapped around his head (not usual). Wondering if he was trying to channel the spirit of the Chiquita banana lady, I asked "Teej, why do you have a towel on your head?"
"Because I was cold."
Fair enough. Frank had just cut the boys' hair before their showers, and what the hell do I know about boys and freshly-buzzed haircuts? Perhaps their bare heads get as cold as my butt does when I just get out of the shower.
But then he said, "Auntie Moxie — when I was in the shower, I accidentally got soap in my eyes. And when I was feeling around for the towel, I accidentally picked up the razor and then I found the towel, which, y'know, was hanging over the shower door. And when I reached up to get the towel, I accidentally shaved my head."
"What do you mean you…take that towel off of your head and let me see."
(This is where you're going to start screaming DID YOU TAKE A PICTURE? at me. No, I did not take a picture, I'm sorry to say. In my Nyquil-induced haze, it did not occur to me to snap a blackmail shot.)
On his head, my friends, TJ had clearly made several linear, angular "accidental" passes, shaving in what can only be described as a lopsided Kandinsky painting. Or perhaps the Peruvian Nazca Lines. TJ could have single-handedly single-headedly provided a landing strip for an alien invasion, thereby causing our abductions and consequential anal probing by bug-eyed, bulb-headed little green men. Perhaps that's why aliens are purported to be bald; though they have harnessed the technology of gravitomagnetism and warp-speed astrophysics, they were stupid enough to try to shave their heads in the shower and their mommies decided to shave them clean instead of sending them to Anal Probing Techniqes class with the Nazca lines embarrassingly apparent on their domes.
So because TJ was stupid enough to try to shave his head in the shower (my shower), I had Frank shave him clean instead of sending him to class with the Nazca Lines embarrassingly apparent on his dome.
Frank: You're lucky Auntie Moxie had mercy on you, because if it was up to just me, you'd be going to class tomorrow with those lines embarrassingly apparent on your dome.
Me: No, as much as I'd like to, our discipline doesn't operate on embarrassment. Besides, I don't want to be responsible for his class being abducted and probed.
Me: Nevermind. No, Teej, we won't send you to school with those lines in your head, but after you finish your homework, you're to stay in your room until I get home from work. That means you'll be in there for about an hour or so. You're not being punished because you shaved your head. I think that having a completely bald head until your hair grows back is embarrassment enough to serve as punishment for that. You are, however, being punished for the lying. When you do something wrong and you know you're wrong, we expect you to tell us the truth instead of making up silly stories as an excuse. Got it?
TJ: Got it, Auntie Moxie.
Me: Good, now get back in the bathroom so that Uncle Frank can get you all squared away. And watch your step, because Jordan was in there before you and after doing THAT to your head, the last thing you need is to slip in pee.
Did you have a Perfect Moment? Read others at Lori's place on Weebles Wobblog.