Please do not stand here and talk, whine, or ask questions.
Wait until I get out.
Yes, it is locked. I want it that way. It is not broken, and I am not trapped.
I know I have left it unlocked, and even open at times, since you were born, because I was afraid some horrible tragedy might occur while I was in there, but it’s been 10 years and I want some PRIVACY.
Do not ask me how long I will be. I will come out when I am done.
Do not bring the phone to the bathroom door.
Do not go running back to the phone yelling “She’s on the toilet!”
Don not stick your little fingers under the door and wiggle them. This was funny when you were two.
Do not slide pennies, LEGOs, or notes under the door. Even when you were two this got a little tiresome.
If you have followed me down the hall talking, and are still talking as you face this closed door, please turn around, walk away, and wait for me in another room. I will be glad to listen to you when I am done.
And yes, I still love you,
Mum
I found this when I was clearing out my Mothering Sunday file…I don’t know who wrote it – but I’m told every mother can relate to it…
Paws for thought 
i used to have this years ago and went looking for it again – thank you for posting it!
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