My toilet is booby-trapped.
There have been clues all along, but I just put two and two together.
Every time I sit down on the toilet, my kids are alerted and suddenly I am bombarded with children banging on the door, barging in and shouting “Mommy, I need you.” “Mom, where are you?” and “MOOOOOOOOM! Do you know what Ben did?” Seriously. It’s an ambush.
They could have been playing in their rooms, quiet and content for hours. They could be out in the playroom deeply enmeshed in a game of Super Mario Kart. Hell, they could be down the block at a neighbor’s house! But the second my butt hits that toilet seat, they come running.
I’m not sure if the alarm is depressed by sitting, or if there is a motion sensor, so I decided to check this out. I examined my toilet. I lifted the seat, I waved my hand over the bowl, I even looked under the rim. Nothing.
I pressed my kids for answers. “What have you done to my toilet?” I asked. They stared at me with blank faces. Livi giggled. I’m onto them.
I’m not sure if they don wireless receivers that buzz them the moment my ass hits the seat or if there is some high-pitched sound—one that can only be heard by dogs and children under ten—that is emitted the second my buns are exposed above the bowl.
Either way, it’s an effective system that alerts them to my whereabouts—letting them know I am not busy on the computer, not cooking dinner, and hence completely available to them for conversation. A captive audience, so to speak.
I would love to find the device and deactivate the alarm. To make it so that when I enter the bathroom, it is the bastion of peace and solitude it used to be—before they installed the system.
If only I could find the little bugger!
Last night we went to a friend’s house for dinner. Afterward, nature called and my friend offered me use of her private facilities upstairs in her room so I could have a little peace and quiet.
The kids were all engaged in games or movies or playing with the dogs outside. So I took her up on her offer.
As I sat down, I thought, “Ahhhh … peace and quiet.”
Sure enough, “Thump, thump, thump, thump …” I hear my son coming up the stairs, calling for me. “Mom? When’s dessert?”
I couldn’t believe it.
Clearly their toilet’s booby-trapped too.
