Sunday night is one of routine at the Stuffy household. It’s one of the kids’ bath nights, big Sunday dinner, then TV together, then off to bed. Sounds simple right? We have a system see. The boys come in early, we switch the TV input for the video games, we start the bath water for the youngest. Two boys play the game while the other is in the tub. Meanwhile the wife and I supervise, while playing a game of cards or dominoes.
Our job, mostly consist of a few phrases: “No, you can’t get out you just got in.”
“Stop playing in the bathroom” and, “What are you doing in there” This last mostly when it’s too quiet. The child gets out of the tub puts on his pajamas, next kid enters, rinse and repeat, after an hour and a half, voila already for the new week.
Flashback to last evening:
It’s going smoothly, maybe to smoothly. We only had to tell Chris to get back in the tub once; Stuffy2 has taken his bath without incident, till now. Jock is heading for the bathroom. Trouble starts.
From the bathroom: Shower running, thump, thump, boom, boom, thump, giggling.
Me: What are you guys doing in there?
Bathroom: Shower running, thump, thump, boom, boom, thump, giggling.
Me: Stop playing in the bathroom.
Bathroom: Shower running, thump, thump, boom, boom, thump, giggling.
The wife looks at me with her patented “Aren’t you going to do something look.”
I get up and head for the bathroom. I plan to catch them in the act, so I creep to the door. Pause for a moment. Push open the door, take three steps, shouting “What are you…” Sloosh, I slip across the floor. My left leg rises off the floor, just in time to be cloths-lined by Jock and Stuffy2, my right leg begins to bend at the knee. My torso is now assuming the limbo position, I slam into the wall at the opposite end of the room, left leg goes up, right leg beneath me, back and head slam into the floor. Or maybe it was head then back, I come to a rest.
As I’m looking at the ceiling, while being rained on (Jock has neglected to close the shower) I hear my wife laughing. The soon to be dead boys have vacated. The room is not wobbling so much. My wife does what any good wife would do. She gets her Polaroid and takes a picture. “Give me that camera.” I say attempting to get up. In my rush, I failed to use both hands to get up, which sends me back to the floor, this time face down. Click. More laughter. Enough with this crap, I get to my hands and knees and lunge, my feet find no purchase, down I go, this time for variety I hit my head on the bathroom door. Click. More hysterical laughter.
I give up. I now when I’m beat, I crawl out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. I spent the rest of the night mumbling to myself.
