In our house we have a secret passageway; a door that masks the presence of anyone beyond it. More over a door to a room where people disappear. Even more than that, it is a room that Charlie is completely afraid once you have entered you will never return, leaving him very distraught and beyond in the depths of despair. I am talking, of course, of the bathroom.
I am hiding in the bathroom as I write, momentarily escaping the madness that is my usual Monday trying to keep my wits and scribble out a short post about the mystery that is our master bath. Having been in the bathroom many, many, many times himself, you would think the boy would have a better grasp of what happens to those who venture beyond it's doorway. But he doesn't. As soon as the bathroom door closes, no matter how gently or subtly, he will come running from the far reaches of the abode to make sure you are not lost forever. And God forbid you lock the door behind you - utter madness.
Having grown up in a house outnumbered by girls 3-2 and having been married for almost six years now, WITH three children who have all made it at least into toddler stage, I have a tendency to lock the bathroom whenever I am inside to protect my own privacy and the sanity of those around me.
I know I'm not the only stay at home parent who uses the bathroom as sanctuary in times of crisis and hopelessness: I'm sure many of you have experienced the same need to escape at certain points during the day. It's not so much a hide out as it is a momentary grasp on sanity; to be face to face with yourself for a moment and gather yourself. I have tried to do this while Charlie sleeps, but it is almost impossible to map pit stops around the nap schedule my son may or may not adhere to on a daily basis. It is increasingly more difficult to try to teach him that the bathroom is an exclusive party, with no plus one.
However, as he grows older, it is becoming necessary for him to join me in the "break room" so he can learn to use the appropriate tools for his own calls of nature. He is learning quickly, but still manages to stain the carpets and paint the tile floor yellow from time to time. I have taught the girls to lock the door behind them, so as to deter their little brother from camping out with them, to which he has little or no response. But if I or my wife lock the door behind ourselves, he completely loses his mind and bangs on the door, kicking it with all his might trying to save us from certain doom.
When I unlock the door he flies through, at once calm and collected, with little to no regard for what is going on rather content to stare out the window; while seconds before he was trying to break through the impenetrable force field to make sure I haven't abandoned him to grow up on his own and fend for himself.
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