Privy to a Family Moment

Apparently, when I am in the bathroom at home, there are neon signs that light up outside the door that point and flash and direct everyone to come on in - at least my immediate family anyway. I have come to accept that if I want privacy, the bathroom is not the place I am likely to find it. A few nights ago after we had finished supper, Chris was downstairs reading a book and the kids were downstairs playing. I took the opportunity to take a moment for myself and take a soak in the tub.

After I had been in the tub about 3.6 seconds, the children must've looked around downstairs and figured out that I wasn't there. They must have sensed they were missing out on some sort of excitement that was being had without their knowledge. I heard them tromping up the stairs, then begin the room to room search asking, "Mommy?" I sunk a little lower in the tub and sighed. It was only a matter of seconds before my serene setting was shattered as two little girls came bursting through the bathroom door.

Watcha doin', Mommy?" questioned Aleita. My standard answer when one of my children asks a question with an obvious answer is the one I gave to her, "painting the walls - - don't they look great?" "You're not painting!" she said, "you're takin' a bath!" Then she did what she always does when she happens upon me in the bathtub - - she insists that I must have some toys to play with. As much as I try to convince her that I am just fine without any toys, she in turn persists that I indeed do need some. After all, what is a bath without toys? Why bother to even get in the water if not to play? Our conversation went something like this:

Aleita: Do you want a Polly Pocket?
Me: No, thank you.

Aleita: Do you want a bath flute?

Me: No, thank you.

Aleita: Do you want a fish?

Me: No, thank you.
Aleita: Do you want a boat?

Me: No, thank you.
Aleita: Do you want a duck?

Me: Yes, of course, I would love a duck. (this will go on indefinitely unless I actually give in and take something.) Aleita, then satisfied, hands me a duck and sits down on the floor to dig through the rest of the basket of the bath toys to find something for herself to play.

In the meantime, Maggie is sitting on the toilet, singing "Jingle Bells," and coloring a picture. A few moments later, Chris came in and we had a discussion about who is picking up the kids after school the next day. While we're talking, the dog decided that since everyone else is in the bathroom, he too must join in on the fun.

Yes, we do have a lock on the door, but if I actually do remember to engage it, I am then subject to both children tapping and knocking on the door or rattling the knob the entire time I am in there. This is usually accompanied by little fingers wiggling under the door and them laying on the floor with their mouth pressed to the opening going, "MOMMMMMMYYYYY......what are you DOOOINNNNNGGGG?"

Some people complain because they never do anything together as a family. If I want family togetherness, all I have to do is run a bath.