There’s Nowhere to Run. There Ain’t No Place to Hide…

After many years of interrupted bathroom breaks, I am now completely convinced these kids are born with an internal radar that informs them of the exact moment their parent’s ass makes contact with the toilet seat so that they can immediately swoop in and bombard their mom or dad with total nonsense, such as the need for another Oreo cookie, to sing a few rounds of the ABC song, or discuss, at great lengths, which superhero has the coolest super power and why.
Pooping in peace. It’s the stuff parent dreams are made of.



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