Like most parents, freshly risen from a semi-restful night of slumber, I made my first stop the master bathroom to conduct my morning business.
Our spacious lavatory includes: a double-sink situation to minimize marital conflicts and a massive walk-in closet to contain piles of unwashed clothing. It also has a nice shower, with sliding glass door, to remove all hope of privacy when marauding children barge in and ask any number of questions vulnerable dads don’t feel like answering in the shower.
The most useful component of our master bath, however, has to be the commode with its own door. The commode not only contains our toilet, but the small room doubles as a library, reading nook, botanical garden (pending wife approval), and all purpose sanctuary/retreat center.
It was after a respite in our commode, still waking up, that I opened the door, stepped out into the commons area and beheld one of the most terrifying, panic-inducing, sights in all of parenting history: Continue reading