Eavesdroppin'

In the mornings, my two daughters take over my bathroom in a flurry of teeth brushing and hair fixing before school. Usually, the two of them argue over who gets to use which sink or the magnifying mirror or the electric toothbrush charger. Today I caught them in a rare moment of cooperation and conversation, so I sat quietly and tied my shoes on the edge of the tub while listening intently to them. I didn’t know if I should be proud or horrified.

E: I hope no one laughs at your leggings at school today.
S: I hope your skin doesn’t break out during PE.
E: I hope someone wants to talk to you.
S: I hope you have to make a poo at school.

Is it just me, or are these cleverly disguised insults the most polite form of sibling discourse ever? I especially like the horror of a bowel movement in public. Does anyone poop in a public restroom without fretting about it first? Just in case you didn’t realize it, that fear does start in childhood, and not just yours. I am sure there is a name for that phobia, but I couldn’t find it easily, and I knew if I spent any more time looking on Google I would find the names of things I didn’t know people actually feared. For example, apotemnophobia. Fear of people with amputations. Who knew?

 I had a supervisor once who would go to the bathroom every morning with his newspaper tucked under his arm. He would stroll casually towards the men’s room without an ounce of embarrassment. As gross as he was, I loved that routine. We all had a good thirty minute break in his absence, which we generally used to talk about how gross he was.

 E: I would never do that. I would hold it in until I got home. I don’t even like to pee at school.

 She doesn’t. I have never met a human who could hold her urine the way my twelve year old can. I am both appalled and jealous of her. It’s not like I pee everywhere I go, but at the same token, I am queen of the UTIs. Holding it is not an option. I know one day this habit will catch up with her, but until then, I let her enjoy the freedom that goes along with her infrequent trips to the bathroom.

 S: I do that too, but sometimes you have to go anyway.
 E: Sometimes you can disguise it so no one knows what you’re doing.
 S: How can you disguise poo? Excellent question, I thought.
 E: PS told me that if you float a square of paper on the water first, it won’t make a splash.

PS is MJ’s boyfriend. Remember my friend MJ? Of course she would be romantically involved with a man who offers my child fecal camouflaging techniques. I don’t know who exactly that speaks to the most, except to say that it’s wonderful they found each other, and that they are free to share their expert knowledge with my children, and that is it any wonder we are all friends?

 S: By the time I get the paper on the seat and then an extra square on the water, I will be in there forever and everyone will already know what I have been doing.
Me: Did PS have any advice on how to hide the smell?

Both my daughters looked at me like they forgot I was in the room. Also like I had a work boot on my head.

E: You’re gross, Mom.

I employ the same listening technique while driving my kids around to and from their various after school activities. It’s best when they are together, and not overtired, and forgot that I was there. That’s how I find out who likes whom, and who got suspended for doing what, and any other school or child related news I might want to know without asking.

Oh, to be a fly on the wall? Hell, I am that fly.