I Hate the Toilet

After a marathon trip to Target, I returned home in desperate need of the bathroom. For those of you who haven't tried, dragging two kids and the shopping cart into the stall with you while you try to go is possible but not at all pleasant. Thus, my desperation at home.

So, I throw the kids and the shopping bags in the playroom and RUN to the bathroom, trying not to kill myself by tripping over any toys on the way.

I go. And I wait anxiously for the pitter patter of little feet down the hallway announcing the arrival of someone who will inevitably destroy my hopes of having a moment of peace to myself. No feet. No sound at all.

This can't be good.

Pants up. Run to the playroom. Molly happily playing. Brody... MIA.

And then I hear it. Plunk. Splash. Plunk. Splash.

And there he is, throwing the contents of the Target bags into Molly's toilet. New shorts. Hangers. A t-shirt. He's covered in toilet water. And he couldn't be happier with himself.

So, I guess I'll be off to Target to buy toilet seat locks. I'll use the bathroom BEFORE I leave this time.