Wednesday, May 19, 2004


My irritable bowels make for rather longish visits to the bathroom every so often, and I typically keep a stash of books handy to make the most of my incapacity. I don't go in there just to read (really!) but the truth is that the bathroom is a bit of a refuge where I can be reasonably sure of a few minutes to myself.

Now that my daughter has given up the convenience of diapers and joined the ranks of the Toileteers, it has not taken her long to discover that the bathroom can be a refuge for her as well (particularly from her marauding little brother). She now frequently requests, "Privacy, please, Daddy" (my cue to close the door and keep said little brother away) as she sits down on the commode, book or stuffed animal in hand.

It's nice to see I'm passing the important things on to the next generation.

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