Magnetic Bathroom Principle

Remember way back when we talked about The Magnet Principle? Where I talked about how my kids and I must be equipped with some sort of magnetic device, because they are always following me around and having to touch me? I am beginning to put more of it together, and understanding it a little better.

It goes back to when I was a kid, and the times I desperately needed something from my mom. This was usually when I found her one of three places.

1. Kneeling by the side of her bed, praying (let's face it, she is a spiritual woman who spends a LOT of time praying).
2. On the telephone
3. Sitting on the toilet

When she was praying, there was no other option but to wait. When she was on the phone, we soon learned that we could write a note with our pressing questions, hand her a pencil, and get a quick answer to whatever it was we needed (for example: Mom, can I go play in the park? Yes or No, to which she would circle which ever option was most likely to get rid of us). And when she was sitting on the toilet, we could easily communicate with her through the door.

Now, I don't spend as much time praying or chatting on the phone as my mom did, but my kids have their magnetic beacons set to "FIND MOM" every time I try to slip away to the bathroom. I can barely close the door before someone is opening it, demanding my attention. The kids could be playing nicely or engrossed in a movie, but if they hear the bathroom door close, they suddenly need to be there, too. Usually, they have some immediate problem that needs solving, and only a face-to-face with mom will do. I have to answer questions like, "Can I have a snack?," "Where are my shoes?," and, if it's Kyla doing the asking, "Are you going poop?"

You'd think I'd take a hint and lock the door behind me, and believe me, I do. But I am still answering the same questions from the same children, only now they are irritated that they can't get in, and ask their questions in a whiney voice, while banging relentlessly on the door. I'm not sure that's much better.

One night a week or two ago, Jeff took all three kids on an errand so I could get dinner cleaned up. I took my sweet time, enjoying the peace and quiet I so rarely experience during the daylight hours, and then made my way upstairs to my bathroom with my phone (so I could check in on Facebook, of course). I'm not kidding you, within minutes, all three kids had returned home, looked all over for me, and joined me in there. I couldn't believe it, but at the same time, I wasn't the least bit surprised.

I wish I could say I don't understand what is so compelling about visiting with mom while she is sitting on the toilet. But then I think back to when I was a kid, and the many, many times I interrupted my own mother (who didn't have the luxury of taking Facebook to the bathroom with her), and I grudgingly admit that at one time, my own magnetic beacon sent me to the bathroom too. Only I'm sure the needs I had were much more pressing. Like, "Where is the cinnamon sugar for my toast?"