Bathroom locks...use them...revere them

When I enter a bathroom, children and pets follow. Somehow, they know I want privacy and time alone. They panic, fearing I’ll enjoy freedom, craving it more often. Within seconds, paws reach frantically under the bathroom door, children knock (sometimes...sigh), and all manner of crises need resolving.

After 18 years, I reached my limit yesterday. I was shaping my eyebrows with electric tweezers, answering M’s questions, resolving a school issue with J. and maneuvering around my husband who was brushing his teeth.

I was suddenly distracted…I wonder why…and felt extreme eyebrow pain.

“Oh no!” Dead silence, three pairs of inquisitive eyes, a collective “what’s wrong?”

“Due to the craziness in here, I just yanked out half my eyebrow!”

“Wow! You sure did! Oh man that looks weird!” Sudden laughter at my expense…Let’s just say I didn’t handle it well…

The bathroom cleared...quickly. I stared in horror at my brow. No worries, right—that’s what eyebrow pencils are for…I frantically dug through my makeup drawer.

Fifteen minutes later, after applying pencil and artfully brow brushing, I sauntered downstairs. “Is it visible?” I asked my husband.

He hesitated, fearing a possible trick question, “No…especially if no one looks right at your eyes.”

Great, now I have to make sure something is caught in my teeth for the next six weeks…