After spending the morning lounging with the kiddos and watching Wall-E for the 11th time this week, I decided to sneek into the shower. Both kids were sitting on my bed watching a cartoon. "Are you going to survive for 10 minutes while I take a shower?" I ask them. "Sure, mommy."
The water comes on, I step in. Water gently rolls down my face. Ahhh. I hear the door open.
"What's up?" I ask. "I have to go potty," my son says.
FLUSH. Hot water burns my face.
After adjusting to the water temperature, I start washing my hair. "MOMMMMIEEEEE!" I hear. I open the shower door. Nothing. "MOMMMIEEEEEEE!" I hear again. I scream "WHOEVER NEEDS ME NEEDS TO COME IN HERE! I HAVE SOAP IN MY HAIR!"
A few seconds later, my son reappears. "Elena pooped. She wants me to wipe her, and I'm ok with that. But I draw the line at butt cream."
As I wash the shampoo out, I reply, "Just wipe her. Tell her I'll put on butt cream when I'm done. Be sure and WASH your hands. Tell her to wash, too." He leaves.
Next, the conditioner. I'm approximately half way through this experience. The door opens.
"WHAT NOW?"
"Can we flush the potty, or will it burn you?" my daughter asks. "Cause there's a lot of poop in there."
Too late...my son has already flushed it.
"I WANTED TO FLUSH IT!!!!" my daughter falls into a fit of rage on the bathroom floor. As I soap off my aching body, my son comes back in and trips over her, bonking his head on the vanity. More screaming.
I exit the shower, grap a towel and head to the other bathroom to assess the damage. When I return, they are again sitting on the bed quietly watching cartoons.
I'd like to know who hardwired these children with radar that makes them need me only when I'm otherwise occupied.
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