The Poop in Peace Project

All I want is to sit on the toilet, read, write, shave, fold laundry, solve calculus problems and not be harassed. Every parent knows what I’m talking about. Is it too much for me to ask for 10 minutes to be alone, or 90, depending on what I ate the day before?

“I’ll be right back. I’m going to the bathroom.”

“Are you going pee or poop?”

“Are you making a chart? I’m going to the bathroom I’ll be back when I’m done.”

Not even five minutes pass and their trying to break down the door.

“WILL YOU TWO KNOCK IT OFF!? IF I HAVE TO COME OUT OF HERE…”

And they know they’ve got me. I can’t get off the toilet quick enough before they scatter. They’ll try to kick down the door if the have to. They know I’m powerless. And God forbid if I don’t lock it.

“Daddy, are you almost done? Will you get out of here! I’m going to the bathroom.”

Then there is the classic, “I HAVE to tell you something.”

“Look daddy, this is a stegosaurus and a picture of a rocket ship shooting a man on the ground.”

“That’s great.”

If you do get a moment of silence, it usually ends with them just fighting in the other room. Which only leads to you presiding over judicial proceedings from the throne.

“He hit me.”

“Why did you hit your sister.”

“I don’t know.”

I want to start The Poop in Peace Project. It would be a non-profit organization, dedicated to allowing parents to use the bathroom in peace. I can’t think of a worthier cause. Science has cured deadly illnesses, put a man on the moon and split the atom. It can’t find a way to keep my kids away from me for five minutes.