Hiding Out In The Loo: My 15 Minute Retreat

I am excellent at finding places around the house that allow me to sneak some quiet time. Do I feel guilty for sneaking off? Kind of, but a dad needs this alone time, and sometimes it is downright hard to find. You owe it to your sanity, and your kids owe it to their continued well-being.

One of my favorite places to hunker down and catch up on the news is the guest bathroom. When the decibel level starts to climb that’s when I creep off. The way I figure it, five fifteen minute restroom breaks get me over an hour to catch up on reading and the news.

In the bathroom, I check my: Facebook, Instagram, Linkedin, Twitter, WordPress, Grandpad, Apple News, etc. I sit reflecting, enriching and recomposing myself. It is a glorious time.

After 10 minutes the quiet time ends. Three Hot Wheels cars dart under the bottom of the door.  It’s my son. “Daddy, what you doing in there?”, He asks me.  I respond, “Ummm… Daddy is using the bathroom, go play with your cars.”

My son and his Hot Wheels cars are reminders that my time is growing short.  I check my Casio and set the countdown timer for five minutes. Ten more Hot Wheels zoom under the door crashing into the amassing wreckage. The bathroom floor is beginning to look like a salvage yard. As I survey the pandemonium, the countdown timer expires, and I hear my wife calling for my son in the distance. It won’t be long now.

My wife is smart to the fact that me retreating to the bathroom doesn’t always entail me using it. She arrives outside the door and commands, “Get off your phone and come out here” Drats caught!

I might be able to get away with more of these retreats if I didn’t always have to double back to grab my phone. Doubling back is the cue to my wife that I am taking my break. If I was, in fact, focusing on official bathroom business then why I would need a phone?

As of late, she has taken to cutting me off mid-stride before I can reach my phone. I then receive the direction, “No more than 10 minutes.” That will cut into my ESPN time, but ten minutes are better than no minutes, I’ll take it.

Now that she is wise to my bathroom breaks I will have to look elsewhere. I guess I will start retreating to the basement workshop to check my emails in peace. At least until my son finds me. When he finds me, my wife is not far behind, and that signifies it’s time to migrate.

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