Dear bathrooms everywhere:
My son wakes up in the morning talking about you. “Hi Dad. Dee. See Bafroom!”
He mentions you throughout the day…likes to list every part of you. “See Bafroom. Toyet. Sink. Wash hand. Soap. Rubrub. Paper towel. Hand dwyer. Trashcan. Flush.”
When we go anywhere, we have to reassure him that yes, you do exist and yes, he may visit you and wash his hands at least once while we’re gone. But once is never enough. No, even when those bathroom noises terrify him to tears, my son can’t quit you. It’s like a bad relationship, with him always coming back for more.
I ask you: how did you create such a grip on my child? What have you offered him? Love? Money? Fame? Tell me! I’ll double whatever you’re promising.
This has got to stop! We can’t even enjoy a trip to Ikea because every blue and white Ikea sign looks like a blue and white bathroom sign and HEAVEN FORBID we pass a bathroom and don’t stop inside to wash our hands and admire the trashcans.
Confession: we stopped at a Game Stop over the weekend and my son wanted to tour their bathroom. The door was locked, so I told him you were broken. When one of the workers said hello, M informed him “Bafroom broh-ken.” The employee started to offer to unlock you but I made eye contact and vigorously shook my head while mouthing NOOOOO because seriously, it had’t been 5 minutes since my kid was last washing his hands. Luckily the man took the hint and apologized for the bathroom being broken. But see what you made me do, bathrooms? You made me tell one of those “Mommy lies!”
So consider this your cease and desist order. Unlock your grip on my toddler, or I will be forced to create a Tumblr full of unflattering photos of you, called The Relentless Pursuit of Bathrooms, and it will contain a picture of every bathroom M ever sets foot in again. Heck, I might do that anyway just to spite you.
A Bathroom-Obsession Hating Mama