I am probably giving you too much information (TMI) here...but I would wager a bet that I am NOT the only one who has this problem...
I get everyone onto the bus and coax my little man back inside with the promise of a lollipop so I can relieve the "urge" that is looming in my gut. Now, you must know that our other two had a strict rule to live by, "NO sugar until after lunch!" When the third came along - yeah, not so strict anymore - I just jump on whatever ploy works that day.
"Want some candy?" "Then, please get off the dining room table." "Want a donut?" "You'll need to stop playing in the potty and wash your hands, then!" He's onto me!
If I'd have had a bowl of sugar in my small powder room I would have given him a spoon just so I could have relieved myself in peace. But I wasn't thinking ahead I guess.
I briskly entered the throne room with a chubby little hand in mine, shut the door and took my seat as Queen of...(I'll spare you!) With that, I was apparently awarded a Jester and JEST he did!
He is a small 2 year old but he felt big as he lurched his body across the room, planted his hands on the lip of the pedestal sink, threw his feet to the pedestal and lifted. His little body became the shape of a "less-than" sign. He was eye to eye with me. He looked at me, giggled and jumped down.
Funny how nothing goes unnoticed when you are 32" tall. He headed right for the small stack of toilet paper in the corner. He and I began a sweet game of catch with one of the rolls. Fifteen years ago, I would never have imagined myself in the toilet-seat-shot-put Olympics. But, who does? I was just hoping to read something, anything in any one of the many untouched magazines in the bin by my feet.
Bored with catch he makes it his mission to build the Leaning Tower of TP. What a kick he gets out of himself when he makes it as tall as he is. I smile. How cute. But three seconds later I have become the center of a nuclear attack as there are toilet paper intercontinental bolistic missles bludgeoning me from all sides! What is it about stacks and piles that make toddlers evolve into SUPER DESTRUCTO MAN?! Another Mom-phenomenon that we will never figure out.
The dog pushes the door, that I thought was shut, open a bit ad tries to come in. I fling my body to the door and shut it. I have all the stimulation I need right now as my body has not relaxed enough to make this trip a DONE DEAL, yet.
And with that minor distraction, my son has decided to switch careers. SUPER DESTRUCTO MAN is now Kareem Abdul Juicebox as he makes a slam dunk with a roll of TP into the pedestal sink. Funny, I never saw that parallel...the powder room sink does look a bit like a basketball net. Huh.
After the huge bulk pack of toilet paper is dumped on the floor and he begins fishing in the trashcan and lunging for the toilet brush I decide...it is time to abort this mission.
We walk out together only to find that the dog has completely macerated the roll she must have grabbed when she tried to interrupt only minutes ago. It looks like she killed a poodle! Well, the "urge" has passed....there's always tomorrow.
Somehow I don't think working moms deal with this discomfort. I can't imagine their co-workers climbing under the stall and wrapping them in toilet paper or playing pat-a-cake! They have the PLEASURE OF POOPING IN PEACE!!