Since it seems that I have neglected telling you tales of my munchkin's exploits lately, I introduce to you a new feature - Shit My Kid Needs To Learn.
When you first came on the scene, things went rather well for us. You were a happy baby, complacent to accompany me anywhere and everywhere that I should need to go. You rarely fussed or fought me, and I was hopeful that this behavior would continue throughout your childhood.
As you can guess, it didn't.
I think it all started around the time that you were two. Up until then, you would do your deeds in your diaper and you were content to never explore the contents or remove it on your own. On your second birthday, I expanded your rights in our house and introduced you to two new rooms.
The bathroom and your room.
Maybe I introduced them both too early or should have given you time to acclimate to the bathroom before showing you your room. Perhaps you have somehow confused the two. I'm not sure how that could have happened considering one features a bed, 5 million toys that you have scattered hither and yon, your clothes, and books while the other contains a toilet and a sink. That's it. One toilet, one sink. There is nothing new, exciting, or fun in the bathroom.
People do not play in the bathroom. You have never seen me in a bathroom having the time of my life, smiling, laughing, happy. You have never seen any other person playing in the bathroom. So, what are you doing in there? What is in there that holds so much mystery that you find yourself drawn to going in there when you don't have to potty? Please, please tell me because I just don't see it.
There is nothing fun about a bathroom.
The first time I heard a flush and a "uh, oh", I let it slide. I didn't care what it was, this was a ritual of childhood. Every kid goes through that cause and effect of the flushing toilet at some point, right? So, I just let it go. Until it happened again. And again.
For awhile, I was able to keep the door to the bathroom closed and that would deter you from playing in there. Then, one day, Blade taught you how to open doors. Sigh. I LOVE Blade, don't you?
In the two years since I have introduced you to the bathroom, I have cleaned poo from the floor, the walls, the countertops, the inside of a bucket, and the inside of a pitcher. I have cleaned toothpaste out of the bathtub and from the floor. I have been shocked and amazed at how often you feel you should wash your hands when I remember to refill the soap dispenser. I have had to throw away numerous kitchen sponges that have miraculously arrived (sopping wet) on the bathroom floor.
I have explained to you on more than one occasion that people don't play in the bathroom but I feel that you have chosen to ignore this command. Where are the tablets written in lightning by the hand of God when you need them? How is playing in the bathroom not a sin? Why is this lesson so hard?
Supergirl, you are amazingly smart. I know that you will go far one day, perhaps you will even be able to play in the some of the most famous bathrooms in the world.
Bathrooms only get famous when people die in them.
And that should be the final reason you need to stop playing in the bathroom.
I love you.