I’ve been aware that for quite a while that whenever my Reason and I go out for a meal or a coffee/pop, my eldest son spends an inordinate amount of time in the bathroom. I’d occasionally ask him why he was going all the time and he’d always skirt around the question. “I don’t know” “I want to wash my hands” “Ive got an itch” “I just want to go again”, he’d be in there every five minutes or so if I let him. I must admit I wasn’t overly concerned, Baxter and I have a great relationship, if there was anything wrong he’d tell me. So I relented, figuring okay he’s got a thing for bathrooms… there are weirder things. Maybe he’s a clean freak? He’s a kid, maybe he just likes looking at himself in the mirror? It could be anything really. One thing for sure, whatever he was doing in there, he enjoyed. He went off skipping and running with a sly grin. I mean, seriously, how much damage can a six year old do in a bathroom? It just can’t be that bad. Can it?
Yesterday at Forza, one of our favorite cafes, curiosity was beginning to get the better of me, when a few minutes into one of Baxter’s personally scheduled toilet visits, a couple of firemen who’d dropped in began laughing and looking towards the bathroom near where they stood. That was enough for me, it was time for me to wander over. I wasn’t even half way there when I began to hear my son’s dulcet tones “Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer…” The fire guys asked if he belonged to me. “Oh yeah…he’s mine,” I said. “He loves to sing”
When Baxter was born, my parents came out for an extended visit from Australia. My dad, who was a professional singer, sang to Baxter day and night for the first six months of his life. I swear dad never actually spoke to Bax, he was always regaled with song – from Babyface to I see the moon, songs I assume were sung to my dad when he was a child. (The lyrics of “I see the moon” have added resonance given that we live so far from my parents). It shouldn’t have come as any surprise that my King of reverb might have wanted to hang out in bathrooms for other than nefarious reasons. Where else is there that provides such cool foldback?
I raced back to my seat – why spoil his fun? If he’d wanted me to know, he’d have told me. The firemen, the baristas and I shared a knowing smile when we left.
Later the same day we visited the library where the secret of the bathroom visits was confirmed. Why he didn’t think he’d be heard I can’t tell you, or maybe he doesn’t care – ” A B C D E F G – H I J K LMNOP…” floated through the building. Nobody seemed to mind and Baxie strolled out blissfully unaware that everyone … everyone could hear him.
How can you not love ’em?