The Daughters had some friends over playing on this particular cold, cold February day. They were making forts and planning their attacks - whatever that meant. Nothing was off-limits. So, as I was baking cookies for the little attackers and I had to go potty, I decided to NOT go to the main bathroom (as one pair of sisters were cleaning the naked Barbies that like to party in our bathtub). I also decided to NOT use our bathroom because the "Killer Cupcake Clubbers" had been gathering an increasing number of towels from the cabinet above that toilet. It was clear that the minute I planted my seat on the seat, I would be interrupted by any number of battle-ready-ing chickies.
I thought I was being smart, though. And I dashed through the laundry room with the shaking of the washer and the rumbling of the dryer and escaped into the laundry room bathroom just in the nick of time.
I had no sooner sat down that I glanced to my left and noticed I had no toilet paper. I leaned my head against the wall and yelled, "I need toilet paper!" The washer changed cycles and the shaking washer got just a touch louder. "I NEED TOILET PAPER!" I screamed louder now realizing that trying to yell over a washer and a dryer to a house full of people who's main concern was not being attacked by their sister-enemies and watching the Master's tournament on TV.
I banged on the wall and yelled, "ANYBODY!???!!"
Nothing.
I tried it louder and slower. Surely they'd hear me if I said it slower, right? "I. NEED. TOILET. PAPER." Then, for good measure and because I'm basically a polite person, I screamed, "PLEASE!"
Still nothing. I tried the seat shake, hoping maybe I could just bypass the toilet paper, but I just didn't feel like that did the trick for me, so I banged on the wall. I was fearful I'd put a hole in the wall, but I was more fearful that I'd break my hand, so I switched to my elbow. That was NOT any better.
As I sat there whimpering, cradling my elbow, air drying v e r y slowly, the door ever so gradually began to open. My first fear was that it was one of the amazingly polite and considerate little girls who were over playing with The Daughters - we're hoping their manners rub off on our two heathens, no such luck so far! I didn't want to scar them from seeing me on stranded on the throne, so I said, "Wait! I just need some toilet paper. Can you tell someone I need toilet paper?"
The door stopped moving. Again, I was hopeful that one of the thoughtful play daters would pass my message on. I expected to hear a sweet little, "OK, Mrs. Momma." Instead I heard nothing. Nothing but panting.
Panting?
Panting.
Then in pranced Bo The Dumb Dog.
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| Staged Photo Disclosure: No toilet was actually used in the taking of this photo. I don't actually carry a camera into the bathroom with me. Often. |
He did, however, sit right by me until the oven timer went off about five minutes later. When the timer dinged its pitiful little ding, all five people who were baraccaded in almost every corner of the house converged upon the kitchen, where I heard The Dad ask, "Where's Momma?"
Then I heard One Daughter say, "We don't need her. We can just take a cookie."
Then I heard Another Daughter say, "No. I did the math and we can each have four cookies."
Then I heard a play-dater say, "Maybe we should look for your momma." (See? Considerate, right?)
Then I heard The Daughters say in unison, "Nahhh."
Eventually, The Dad, with his mouth full of cookie hollered for me, at which time I hollered back and he came to my rescue with a roll of toilet paper. A full 10 - 12 minutes or until golden brown did I sit on the toilet waiting for my rescue.
And Bo? I rewarded his faithfulness with a milkbone. He was not impressed.
I swear I heard him say, "That's the last time I sit with her!"
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