I started a great book this weekend, The Rule of Four. I haven't been able to put it down. This means I read it ever opportunity, which makes the bathroom a prime spot. Thinking I had a few minutes to do my business in private and get another chapter in while The Boy was playing with Daddy, I retired to the powder room. Wouldn't you know my little monster can smell out shit from 2 miles away. (Now if you ask him what it smells like he'll say gummies...but that's a story for another day.) So midway through my business here he is talking about flushing the toilet, and mommy pooping, and then turning the water on and off in the sink. So much for my enjoyable crap.
So I put the book down, clean myself up, and reach for the faucet to turn it off while pulling up my drawers. Of course TB has to check out my offering to the porcelain gods, and then flush so he can watch it go down. Thinking he's occupied for the 5 seconds it takes to wash my hands I take my eyes off him. Damn if that little shit didn't decide my book needed to take a swim.
I thought we were past the putting things down the toilet stage. Do they ever get past that fascination? I know Amazing Daddy never got over the fascination of what he can put in it.
It's so enjoyable reading a book when you have to peel the pages from each other to turn them.