Scents Of Humour

I’ve just had Master13 complaining to me about never getting any privacy when he’s on the loo.

Knock, knock! was quickly followed by the handle turning.

“Hey, I’m in here!” bellowed Master13.

I don’t know why my kids don’t pause long enough for an answer before they try open the bathroom door. Are they worried if they break their stride they’ll pee on the floor? Are they prairie dogging?

In this case, there wasn’t even a bladder emergency driving the urgency.

“I’m looking for Emily,” Miss8 said by pressing her lips up to the crack she’d created. Personally, if I knew my brother was on the other side of that door dropping the kids off at the pool, I wouldn’t be shoving my nose in there.

“And who do I sound like?” asked my smartass of a son. I know most of you won’t believe me but he gets that off his mother.

There was a pause as Miss8 considered this question.

“Joshua?” she said finally.

Three years ago there would have been an excuse for the pause because the now Miss15 & Master13 sounded annoyingly similar. Nothing breaks your stride than yelling into the bowels of the house at a child you can hear being a shit who then appears over your shoulder.

But these days they’re chalk and cheese. For one thing, Master13’s sounds like he’s trying to play a song while a little kid occasionally runs up and hits a few random keys.

“Trust me,” said Master13, “you do not want to come in here right now.”

“But I need to.”

“Why? We can’t both fit on the seat.”

“I need to see if Emily is in there.”

“She isn’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I don’t shit with my eyes closed,” he said impatiently. And then he said something which he gets from me. “Please. I’m trying to concentrate.”

With me it’s because I’m reading or typing or listening to Youtube. Not sure what he was doing and didn’t ask.

Miss8 reluctantly closed the door, but not before pressing her lips up to the crack between the door and the frame to make one final demand.

“Well, if you see her in there let me know straight away,” she said before stomping off to search elsewhere.

Leaving Master13 to finally settle back and get on with things.

Except…

…that was the precise moment when someone in cupboard under the bathroom sink started giggling.

So yeah, maybe he’s got a point about the lack of privacy. What do you think?

Our two youngest spend a late, lazy afternoon picking flowers in our garden. All of the flowers. It was essentially a deforestation.

Raising a family on little more than laughs

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