I don’t know why it is but the smallest room in my house is my favourite. Actually it isn’t exactly the smallest room; the larder is the smallest room and is my second favourite place in the house.
We use “smallest room” as a euphemism for the lavatory.
Granny’s bathroom is in fact my favourite “smallest room” being almost suffocatingly warm thanks to a radiator and a hot towel rail, which is on permanently as a release loop for the boiler.
It is the place where I go for peace.
Solitude.
Quiet
To contemplate life without life getting in the way.
Problem is that this particular “smallest room” has a faulty door which refuses to shut properly so you can never lock it.
Invariably just as I want to use the “smallest room” my boys get this urgent desire to be with me, as close as physically possible.
It means that you can’t ever quite relax. You can’t switch off and pretend they aren’t there, ignoring the frantic knocking at the door. Not when they are pushing against it and loudly declaiming they want to come in while you frantically try to fob them off and at the same time hold the door closed with your feet. It doesn’t make doing the necessary very easy.
I have tried alternative “smallest rooms” in the house (we have four others) but they are not the same. To be honest they are all far too cold and so not places where you might want to contemplate anything other than the job at hand and vacating as soon as possible.
I have tried sneaking off, not telling them where I am going, but it must be one of those child/mother bonds that mean that they are drawn to where you are like a magnet.
It has led to some interesting questions and invariably some very inappropriate answers.
Him: “What are you doing?”
Me: “Going to the loo.”
Him: “Are you doing a wee or a poo?”
Me: “None of your business.”
Him: “Why?”
Me: “Because sometimes Mummy’s like doing things in private…”
Him: “Why?”
Me: “Just because…”
Him: “It’s very warm in here…”
Me: “Yes it is. Why don’t you go away now and let Mummy be.”
Him: “Where’s your willie?”
Me: “I haven’t got one.”
Him: “Why?”
Me (totally exasperated): “Because I was very naughty and kept asking my Mummy silly questions while she was on the loo and it got chopped off….!”
6 comments:
Love it.
There is no door on the smallest room in our bedroom, so going potty, as our son calls it, is a spectator sport. He helps his Mom out with her "Girl's stuff" by handing her a pad or a tampon. "Do you need one of your sticks, Mommy?"
I don't think I have your guilty conscience - I would class that as a 'Good Mummy' moment. I too have a favourite small warm room - and made sure that it had a new catch and no keyhole when we moved in!
I think I lucked out as far as kids wanting to be with you while you're on the loo goes. MIne don't even notice I"m not in the living room - in fact they insist on continuing to talk to me even though I'm yelling "I can't hear you, I'm in the loo" at the top of my lungs.
LOL. I get no peace from the kids or the cats!
BNM
Ah yes, I get the same questions from my boys, although I think they have finally come to terms now with the anatomical differences! I tend to sneak off at speed, since there are no locks on our doors either. It's always a race to see if I can finish before I'm tracked down. What really gets me is the way they peer into the toilet to see what you've been doing!
I remember those days and my appreciation of a good lock. Perhaps it's time for one of those big hook and eye affairs for that door - you'll still have the questions, but will be secure in the knowledge that no one is getting in.
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