A theDad and theBoy moment

Our bedroom is not the master bedroom. Indeed in many houses we've lived in we've devoted the master bedroom to being instead a combined study (slash) mini-lounge (slash) robing station (1). That was the case with the last place we lived in as well.

The bedroom where we dwell is opposite the toilet. I was sitting on the end of the bed when I saw theBoy, pants around his knees, shuffling for the toilet, intending on doing a wee. Unfortunately for theBoy theDad was using it. Unfortunately for theDad he'd forgotten to lock the door.

So I got to see the delightful view of my theDad standing at the toilet in mid flow, his pants around his knees, with theBoy, also pants around his knees, standing behind him and then attempting to get to the side so he could go too. With much laughter I had to extract theBoy from the toilet so as to give theDad some peace so he could finish up. 

In retrospect I probably should have joined them. That way we'd have had three generations, all with pants around the knees, standing in line for the toilet.

Good times...

(1) So we still keep our clothes in the master bedroom, for it's often where the built in wardrobes are, and we get dressed there. But we sleep in one of the smaller rooms. Since we have a king-sized bed then the rooms often end up as BED ISLAND!, where the bed almost takes up the entire space. Indeed in the current arrangement I have to turn to my side to shuffle from the side of the bed to the door. We've been here nearly five years now. So there's a black line along the wall at full convex extension of my gut where my stomach has rubbed along the plastered wall as I've shuffled sideways to the exit.