Yesterday I went to Home Depot with the thought of replacing our toilet seat. It worked fine but was old and kind of beat up looking. New seats can be really cheap so it just didn’t make sense to keep staring at something so ugly many times a day.

There was a wall of toilet seats and I quickly perused for the cheap ones, then looked over the ones that have the soft close mechanism. $30? Awesome. Done deal, and no more worries about Kate smashing her fingers on the rare times she is in the bathroom.

But wait, what was that? A built-in toddler seat? That is perfect! Not of use just yet, but it will be soon enough – and our bathroom is too tiny for more clutter.

I cam home and installed it while Kate was eating dinner. But then she was done and I wasn’t, so she came to “help.” Let me just say one thing about toddler “help”: it’s not helpful. At all. Like when I was putting the groceries away today she slammed the fridge door on my back several times. And when I roared, “OW! I said stop!!” she laughed. Thankfully I managed to distract her with a ratchet as I finished cleaning up. (“Here, play with this heavy metal object!”)

Then she saw me opening the toilet lid.

Though she does accompany me every time I use the toilet (an unanticipated side-effect of parenthood: getting used to someone climbing under your legs and playing with your pants as you pee), I have been careful to shield the functions of the toilet from her view. She tries to play with the lid, but I am sitting there. (This does result in bruises on my back.) When I get up I quickly put the lid down, flush, and shimmy her right out before she can explore this big water-bowl-lid thing.

Yesterday I was careless. She saw it. Her eyes lit up.

She played with the lid, lifting the seat, putting it down, pulling down the toddler seat, putting that up, closing the lid, lifting the lid, closing the lid, lifting the lid…

When I was done, and had enough of watching the joy of toilet lids, I gently took her hand to lead her from the bathroom, like I do every time. She pulled away. I tried again. She cried. I tugged her towards the door and she fell into a limp heap, shrieking. Cries persisted after I carried her out and shut the door.

Much later in the evening, after Den got home and was playing with Kate, I slipped off to the bathroom by myself, shutting the door gently behind me. Kate apparently saw me leave, as she ran towards the bathroom, crying. She stood at the door, wailing. When I left the bathroom, slipping out quickly and shutting the door, she frantically reached around me, trying to get in.

I’ve awakened a monster. She knows.