Noah has decided, with certainty, that he is a once-a-week pooper. He informs people this at random, and they are more educated for it.
But when that once a week time slot comes along, he’s as dramatic as 100 senators complaining about each other.
“I’m gonna need twenty minutes. Do we have twenty minutes?”
“No – we have to leave in 15 minutes.”
“That’s not gonna work!!!!”
Then when he’s in there…
“UUUUUUUUUGH!!!! AAAAAAAAAARGH!!! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEERN!!!”
And toward the end….
“I HAAAAATE WIPING. WHY WON’T YOU WIPE FOR ME ANYMORE???”
Growing up is the worst.
But Tuesday night he launched his most comprehensive bathroom campaign yet.
Of course the urge hit him up right in the middle of dinner, right after he’d finished eating everything he wanted to eat and right before he was forced to eat what he didn’t want to eat. His need to pass a new bill showed up just in time to conveniently filibuster dinner.
He disappeared to the bathroom, and we had time to finish our dinner, explain to Ali a full understanding of the three branches of government, watch the pre-show, the SCOTUS pick, and the post-show, all while Noah was commode camping.
(With various yells, groans, and sounds from the senate chamber interspersed into our dialogue.)
At 37 minutes, Chris got a bit fed up.
“What are you DOING in there??”
“What I always do in here…”
“What’s taking so long?”
“Did you actually poop or are you just sitting there?”
“I pooped…but it’s taking FOREVER to wipe.”
“You need to hurry up – you still have to eat your dinner!”
“You’re wasting all your playtime in there – you know that, right?”
Chris went upstairs to get a shower. Ali went upstairs to read Harry Potter.
At the 60 minute mark, Noah emerged with a deep sigh.
“Where did everyone go? To bed? Is it bedtime??”
“Go eat your dinner.”