I will bake a batch of cookies for the genius who discovers what the link is between my seat and any other seat in the house. I have 6 kids but when I need help or desire company at any given moment I might as well be in the middle of the Sahara Desert. Let my behind touch the toilet seat, though, and they're coming out of the woodwork with problems, questions and commentary and who's the only one who'll do? Mom.
Doesn't have to be the toilet, either. Say I retreat to the recliner with a book after a long, busy day. I'm beat, I've been looking forward to reading this book, and the coast is clear - everybody's needs have been met and I can relax with a clear conscience. As soon as my butt hits that chair it completes some mysterious circuit that drops kids out of the ceiling at me like ping-pong balls on Captain Kangaroo.
And will someone please explain to me why my gentle, brilliant husband will bide his time all day and then decide that 2 a.m. is the perfect time to talk??
Let me tell you, the "Throne" is the nicest place in the house. The "Oval Office" was my refuge when my two were little. I'd go in there to just relax, and every so often, flush the unused toilet just to keep 'em guessing.
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