I Walk the Line

The Great Adventure continues…

When I take three boys to the bathroom at one time, I walk the line — a thin, yellow line.

Water, freed from a dam, moves with intense energy. It cuts its path with a force unrivaled in nature. Well, nearly so. Nothing is so swift or forceful as my sons rushing to the bathroom. Their race is powered by the intense desire to explore the wonders of indoor plumbing for the masses. I reluctantly ride this massive force helpless to stop the chaos it creates.

Three boys tugging, pulling, pushing – and touching everything. I never thought of myself as having a queasy stomach. At home, I’m usually the one to clean the carpet when the kids get sick on it. I pick up the dog’s mess in the back yard. I’ve even endured diapers the EPA would classify as toxic waste. But there’s something about three boys in a public restroom that makes me want to… Well, I’ll just say the only thing keeping from being sick is the image of putting my head near somewhere it was never meant to go.

If my sons would be satisfied with just using the restroom I would not have a problem, but being boys they are explorers. They want to examine every inch of every surface by touching everything, by looking under, over, and around everything. They also share the explorer-like tendency to make bold proclamations. Unfortunately, a bold proclamation in the average public restroom has the tendency to echo loudly (and much too long).

My explorers like to make proclamations such as:

“That man is making this place stinky!”
“He has brown shoes because he’s pooping.”
“When that man is done he’s going to use that sink” (said while pointing to the meanest, and toughest looking man in the room; and indicating the dirtiest sink in the room).

It’s times like these I don’t know whether to fear more for my health or my safety.