At least twice a week, for the better part of a decade, I am faced with something that baffles me and sends me straight into barking at my children. I am caught off guard by it every time, and at this point, I refuse to deal with it and call the guilty party in for a lecture and a clean up on aisle 6.
At least twice a week, for the better part of a decade, I walk into the bathroom to find the toilet full of child size odor logs with enough toilet paper to meet the needs of a frat house after a weekend of playing tequila quarters.
I don’t understand the confusion here. Do your business, wipe your business, then flush your business. This is not a difficult concept! But for whatever reason, my little angel cannot seem to remember all the steps in the equation. She is in the gifted program, could multiply fractions at 8 years old, could read chapter books at 6 years old, could spell her whole name at 3 years old… this should be a no brainer. But here we are, still fighting the good fight.
Then there is my son who loves the flush. Pee, flush. Wipe, flush. Been a while since he’s heard it, flush. Can’t remember which way the water whirls, flush.
I have started sending him in to monitor the situation and aggravate her while on her throne just enough to want to remember. I call him “The Enforcer”, he loves it and she flushes… it’s a win-win.