In a recent post I mentioned Thomas in connection with the words 'chronic constipation'. Thankfully those days are long long gone. They were not happy times.
My (maybe vain) hope is that my boys will have such incredible senses of humour when they're older that they will see the very funny side of my having shared such intimate details of their bathroom habits years previously.
If not? Well I guess it'll just be too late and they'll either have to live with it or else legally change their names and move far away from me and my Internet ramblings.
You can see now why I'd prefer the first option. I am pretty attached to my little chaps after all.
But anyhow, very occasionally for old times sake Thomas will take a walk down constipation memory lane (so to speak) and take himself off to sit on the toilet for an hour or so. I'm not complaining my life is pretty low maintenance while one of the kids is on the loo watching the day go by with no real intention or need to poop. Eventually boredom sets in and he gets down and returns to whatever he was doing before the urge took him. I consider it a gift of sorts. Like a self inflicted time out that he gives himself.
Recently before boredom had the opportunity to set in I had to use the bathroom and for those who are mothers you'll no doubt sympathise that bladder control sadly isn't what it once was. So I asked Thomas is he would temporarily take a break from his non-pooping so that I could quickly use the toilet.
But I'll only be a minute.
(More urgently) Please Thomas I'll be really quick.
My said no. You go outside in the park like those dogs do.
Can I just take this opportunity to apologise to whoever has the good fortune of marrying my firstborn because apparently a boys toilet is his castle and there is just no parting him from it.
Even in an emergency.