I recently commented that my children were playing "toilet tag," and this seems to have stirred up a great deal of curiosity. Prolly more than it deserves. Nonetheless, here's the explanation:
When I was busy dumping my brain via my last blog post, the wee ones became more and more restless. They can play together nicely with no one getting hurt and nothing getting broken for oh, about ten minutes maximum. My ten were up long before I reached the last paragraph of my last blog post. Like many parents, I have become desensitized to the sounds and sensations of the house rocking on its foundation to the incredible amount of noise and commotion that just two small bodies (with a combined weight of approximately half of my own) can generate. This is why the squealing and thumping that had grown increasingly louder over the previous fifteen minutes was barely perceptible to my consciousness.
Then there was thumping and bumping around the lower level of the house, through the playroom and family room, and great gales of giggles interspersed with the repetitive sound of a toilet flushing. By the time I had finally tuned in with full consciousness, I realized that the flushing had been going on for awhile.
Let me pause to explain that Dear Daughter was never much of a strong leader. Until her little brother turned approximately two. Now that she has a devoted following, her leadership skills have emerged at an alarming rate. All it takes is for me to caution both of them to stop doing some random obnoxious thing and they stop for a moment until Dear Daughter convinces her little brother to continue being naughty while she stands "innocently" on the sidelines watching. This morning, they were screaming "BAP!" at the top of their lungs while I was trying to drive them safely across town in the family mobile. I scolded them both and warned them of dire consequences if they did not stop, and then I observed Dear Daughter in the rearview mirror whispering to her little brother, "Zach! Say BAP!"
And so, as the madness of relentless screaming and toilet flushing ensued, I decided to observe the situation for moment in order to get a grip on what I was dealing with. What I witnessed was Dear Son being chased by Dear Daughter, punctuated with peals of intermittant screaming laughter. Dear Son ran like lighning into the bathroom with his big sister on his heels. Then there was a brief bit of commotion, followed by more screaming, and then a toilet flush before Dear Daughter came screaming out of the bathroom with her little brother close on her heels. The roles reversed with Dear Son chasing his big sister across the lower level of the house and finally into the bathroom again. Then there was again commotion followed by a toilet flush and shrieks of laughter and screams, followed by Dear Son leading them back out of the bathroom with his big sister close behind.
Apparently the two had devised a game whereby the one who was "it" had to make it to the toilet and flush it before getting tagged, which would then cause the other one to be "it," and the scene would play out again in reverse. Over and over again. And again.
I jumped into action, trying to be heard above the commotion to stop flushing the toilet. This was ironic, as I am otherwise frequently hollering at Dear Daughter to flush the darn thing along with the treasures she left for the next unsuspecting soul that would come along. "I just wanted you to see that giant turd I made" has been her response in the past, and she refused to allow the passage of her prize to its watery grave until I "oohed and ahhed" and congratulated her to her complete satisfaction.
So thereyago. Just remember, you asked.