Taking the kids to the loo when you’re on the road really eats into your day, especially when you’ve five kids and their bladders don’t communicate.
We did this to ourselves, of course.
Raising up to nine people in a three bedroom house with only one loo – and even that shared a room with the shower, bath and laundry – has meant, through necessity, our kids rarely need to pee-pee at the same time.
And as we refuse to let any of them go to the toilet blocks in showgrounds or caravan parks without us, we end up getting lots of unnecessary exercise.
Well, I do.
Tracey’s busy at the moment because we’re scooting around Victoria following her work diary. In any case, I like to appear useful.
Then, this week, it happened. A bunch of them announced they needed the bathroom at the same time.
“I’ll take them,” said Tracey, standing up.
“Really?” I asked, trying to gauge whether she was genuinely wanting to take them or if I was supposed to insist she stand down and let me.
I’m getting better at translating the strange mix of Mother’s Guilt and Hinting Wife which Tracey speaks when she’s in work mode, but it still takes a bit of concentration. I’m not complaining either. Tracey’s morning had involved staring at her screen editing photo sessions from the weekend whereas mine had primarily been taken up with Youtube and staring into the fridge wondering where all the cheese had disappeared to.
“I need to go too,” she added, letting me off the hook.
It was, I thought mistakenly, a rather wonderful moment, and the moment they’d left plunged into the fridge to see if I couldn’t find a celebratory bit of brie.
But, despite Tracey taking three kids to the loo at the same time, I suspect the problem has just been made worse.
“That’s it,” said Tracey, reentering the bus. “You have to take the kids to the toilet next.”
“That’s fair,” I said. “I’ve taken them eight times today and you’ve up to…” I looked at my fingers and mumbled some numbers, “one.”
“Haven’t you noticed how long I’ve been?” Tracey wanted to know.
“I have,” I lied. “I just assumed you took the kids over to the swings again.”
All she’d attempted to do was walk the kids to the toilet block fifteen meters behind our trailer.
Maybe it’s because these days we hang about in showgrounds with a lot of post-retirees, but the difficulty had apparently started when Miss5 mistook Master12 and Miss7’s new ‘funny walk’ for them pretending to be old people. This particular funny walk I recognised immediately from the video Tracey showed me – it started life as a pose in a photo at the the paddle steamer wharf where Miss5 had, for reasons only known to her, decided to strike a Beyonce pose in a family shot. From there, primarily because we laughed, it has progressed through the entire Devereaux entourage.
And now it’s become…well, you can watch the video and see for yourself.
Yep, I suspect family day trips to the public loos and even less likely now and Tracey will be insisting on going by herself too. At least until she’s caught up with her workload.
She kept it up all the way back to the bus too
Proof of evolution?
Raising a family on little more than laughs
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