I Tiptoe To The Bathroom

Dave gets up. Goes to the bathroom. Flushes the toilet. Washes his hands. Washes his face. Shaves his face. Brushes his teeth. Gets his clothes from our closet in the girls’ nursery. Goes through two baby gates on his way to the kitchen. Opens the ironing board. Irons his clothes. Gets dressed. Goes back into the double nursery to get the belt he forgot. Puts away the ironing board. Packs up his computer. Loudly, so very loudly zips his computer bag. Walks back into our bedroom to kiss me goodbye. Whispers, “I love you.” Walks back across the house. Turns deadbolt one. Turns deadbolt two. Steps out the front door. Both the deadbolts click into place from a key. Van starts and he’s gone.

But if I silently tiptoe to the bathroom, this immediately happens…



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