Earlier today I was enjoying a little alone time in the bathroom. It seemed like the perfect opportunity to take in a few pages of my latest read. I didn't get very far before the door knob turned.
Evidently Maggie (now 4) thought it was a good time for a little check-in with Mom. "Mommy's going to the bathroom and wants her privacy." She got it; turned around and walked out--even closed the door behind her.
Exhale, smile, return to book.
Less than a minute later, I hear screaming from the hallway. The big white fitness ball wasn't doing what she wanted and I guess it seemed logical that I'd want to jump off the throne to help her out. "Isn't Daddy out there?"
Silence.
I think she's gone and start reading again. Then, through the door comes the book Calliou at the Market. "Mom, you know Calliou has a bulb head (that's bald head in case you didn't know)." Then, "Read this to me, Mom."
This time I lose hope. "Okay, Maggie, just shut the door and I'll be right out." Expecting a quick exit, I'm a confused when she turns around so I change my voice to let her know I really want her out.
"I'll wipe you."
My heart warms. She really must love me since she usually refuses to wipe her own ass, much less someone else's. But, I let her off the hook and tell her I'll meet her on the couch.
