Gone To Pot

I do not remember the 'pot pamphlet' being part of my "Welcoming  Your New Baby Home" package.

Do you?

You know, the one that says for approximately the next decade you will not be able to privately go to the bathroom?

If so, I missed it.

Who would dream that someone would want to be in that same room with you?
(The Pot?)

Well, apparently not me!

As all of my children have long been past this stage and are now living on their own, this is a far distant memory....

*The, "Mooommm, what are you doooiinngg in there?" question,

*The muffled, "Mrs. Lee is at the door and she has a flat tire and Mr. Lee is out of town and she has to go to the store cuz she has to make more brownies because Sara didn't know they were for the bake sale and she ate them and she wants to know if you can give her a ride.  So can you?!" yelled through the door jamb,


*The "Can you read this to me?" request (while sliding Everybody Poops under the door), 

*The distinct, it's-too-quiet-to-be-good silence (you know the one, the one that means TROUBLE) interruption,

*The, "I have to goooo! Huurrry!" demand.

(It's all coming back to me now.)


My children have no recollection of those days.
(I think it is because they have often traveled to Denial with me so are very familiar there.) (As stowaways- which was my choice, otherwise how could I have gone?)

So you can imagine my surprise when once again my privacy has been invaded.

                                                          BY THIS:
                                                         

                                                                                                           

                

 
                          



                                                        AND THIS:

"How long a minute is, depends on which side of the bathroom door you're on."  ~Zall's Second Law