When my brother and I were kids, we were notorious for spending too much time in the bathroom.
I was particularly fond of flushing things down the toilet that didn’t belong there. In attempt to prevent my parents from taking a stuffed animal tiger as a present to a baby shower, I had shoved its fluffy body into the bowl. Rendering it a contaminated gift, that they let me keep. I guess you could say I won that round.
The round I obviously didn’t win was the attempted flush of a gold watch of my mother’s, and my father’s expensive razor. Those, I was thoroughly punished for.
My younger brother on the other hand, was a master of playing in sinks. He’d splash water around the counter, mirror, and all over his clothes. Sometimes while we were in department stores, after minutes of waiting, my mother would have to send a male employee into the men’s bathroom to try and fish my brother out.
“He’s the one covered in water I’m sure. Can’t miss him.”
When I was seven, my parents bought a brand-new track home, and we had to move to my grandmother’s ranch while it was being built. A ranch is a fun, yet tricky place to deal with two young children. There were creepy-crawlies and vermin everywhere. Just ready to scare the shit out of all of us.
In the guest bathroom of this ranch, there was a quarter sized hole in the celling. As an adult, I now know it was caused by a leak in the roof, but back then it was the center of horror.
My father, to get us to stop our stupid bathroom habits, had told us both that a giant spider lived in that hole. He was the enemy of bad children, and that he would climb down from him home and swallow us in one gulp.
From the minute we moved in, I learned to pee at lightning speed while staring up at the hole in constant fear. My brother often refused to even use the bathroom, and preferred to go just about anywhere else.
Ultimately, this lie may have backfired on my parents.
But I can still pee really fast. Good life skill? Not sure.
Created: May 09, 2017Lucky_one Document Media