I hate cleaning the toilet. I don't think anyone likes it. It's nasty and disgusting, but it's gotta be done. And today is bathroom-cleaning day. I save it for Fridays (oh joy!) so that our family will have a fresh clean bathroom and toilet to enjoy for the weekend. Weird logic, maybe, but I'm a hausfrau and it's my privelege to decide what days get devoted to which household tasks. Friday is bathroom cleaning day.
So while I'm scrubbing the toilet, I suddenly remember that my son is bringing his friend home from Kindergarten this afternoon. That's great. I love that these two get along so well. But the other boy, in my biased mother's opinion, is a bit of a monster. Hyperactive. He leads my boy astray and influences him to do things my son knows he probably shouldn't be doing. One thing they think is funny is going potty together. You know. Crossing streams. Needless to say, this makes a big mess.
This child who is not mine also is a very messy pisser. Every time he's been over, I've had to scrub the bathroom down again. Maybe I should just hold off cleaning the bathroom until tomorrow? No. It gets done now. And I'll make a point of informing the children only one boy at a time in the potty, washing hands is a must, and please aim for the MIDDLE of the toilet.
Last time this kid was over, I found out they'd been playing in the street. We live on a big hill and were rolling their bikes into the driveway by hiking up the hill, stopping in the middle of the street (german drivers are fast drivers, even on remote, curvy, residential, hillside roads).
So an hour ago, as the three of us approached the house, my son and his friend took off up the hill again, and I yelled after them in my sterm mommy-voice, "Überhaupt NICHT in die Strasse spielen, ja? Nicht in die Strasse, jungs. Niemals." Absolutely NO playing in the street, got it? Not in the street, boys! Never!
They humbly agreed. So I left them for a few minutes while I changed over the laundry (towel washing day falls in with bathroom cleaning day), and five minutes later went back outside to check on them. Normally, I would have trusted my child to do as he was told, but he was with this friend, so I thought it best to keep a close lookout. I trudged outside, down the stairs and into the parking-lot-sized driveway--and they were nowhere in sight. And not a peep to be heard. Uh-oh.
I moved to the edge of the driveway where it looked down onto the street curving downward below, and I heard the remote chime of childish laughter. I hurried down the hill to the busy street that runs at a 65-degree angle from ours and saw the two boys half-way down the hill on the narrow sidewalk. Cars rushed past inches from their flushed and joyful little bodies. I let them mess around until they saw me standing there and started to walk their bikes back up (it's too steep to ride them). My son stopped a few feet before me, turned around, and prepared to roll down the hill again.
"Nein!" I yelled. "Komm' zurück! Ins haus mit euch! Jetzt!" No! Come back! Get in the house, now!
Looking abashed, they lead the way back up the hill to our house, while I quietly but sternly chastised my son for what I knew, this time, was his idea. He likes to roll down the hill as fast as he can go, despite my calling out, Not so fast!, as I walk him to kindergarten every morning. I knew he wanted to show his friend this very cool pastime.
Once we were inside, I did inform my son that the rule was only one kid in the potty at a time, and we both made sure to remind poor D to wash his hand before eating and after using the toilet. And miraculously, his aim was very accurate when he peed. But the afternoon is not over, and I hear the two giggling in the backyard. I know when they come back in, there will be mud smeared into the seats of their pants, and dirt tracked over the floor.
But at least the toilet is still clean.
...And I'm hearing silence again. Help.
