But the famous Naked Dad story happend when I was about seven. I knew girls had vaginas and boys had penises. Check. What I was unaware of was testicles.

So I thought my Father had three penises.

Yes! Yes, this - it was a puzzlement to me. When I was wee both my parents = nekkid, with my dad only starting to become self-conscious about it when I hit puberty (when I was 17 & off to Canada for a year, leaving them hosting a girl from Seattle, he built himself & my mym an en suite bathroom to avoid unfortunate nekkidness incidents)

Erin's employers, incidentally - still dickheads.

Meanwhile, things that are rather depressing - the bloke I rather fancy, who's going to be leaving for China soon and shows no signs of realising that I am in fact a girl &, you know, right here, continues to be irritatingly fanciable. New things last night - arriving singing a slightly obscure song by one of my favourite singers, being entirely chilled with the fact that people assume he's gay (which is more than I can say for many straight guys of my acquaintance) and having a total zero tolerance policy towards his students if they use gay as an insult - booting them out of the room immediately, then going and talking to them about it. And getting quite worked up when someone in the group criticized his methods, and pointing out how much it sucks for any of the closeted gay kids in any given class if casual use of gay as a euphemism for crap is tolerated, but that equally there's no point in making it into a big confrontation with loss of face in the middle of the classroom because then the speaker gets pissed off & doesn't listen (and if they were bullying someone in the first place, said gay kid is likely to get their head kicked in later) and just generally being thoroughly sound and a good egg. And just -seriously, this is not happy-making. START BEING RUBBISH, ALREADY, BLOKE! And then someone mentions Dead Poets Society and he says, taking the piss out of himself but I still find myself rather suspecting it's true, that this is what made him want to be a teacher. Ack. Ack. Ack.

Really, this fancying business is just depressing. Want to switch it off.

After whole roomfuls of people (medical professionals, but still) watched me give birth, I got a whole lot less squeamish about peeing in front of Stephen.

And then once the kids are walking, they invariably *follow* you into the bathroom. There's no sanctity to bathroom time after that.

There's no sanctity to bathroom time after that.

I get this too and with the kids, ok sure - at least when they were little. What continues to flummox me are the pets. Why the dog AND cat feel they need to keep me company when I pee....no clue.

The cat knows it is safe - you can pet the cat, but you won't be picking him up. At least that's our theory.

4 typos. obviously an hour nap is not enough

Every morning, Amon follows me into the bathroom so he can writhe on my feet and get a belly scratch, even though he's just spent the last several hours sleeping at my hip. When we close the bathroom door all the way, the cats tend to cry forlornly and reach under the door in a desperate attempt to reach us. The inside bottom of the bathroom door is clawed to pieces.

They don't do this when I'm in the shower. I guess they know Mommy's going to be busy in the falling water and not petting cat bellies.

The Cat Daniel is absolutely convinced that teh hoomans need a cat wingman any time they venture into the bathroom, for any purpose. He has retained this conviction despite several Cat-lands-in-full-bath incidents back in Cairo. I used to assume it was because he likes drinking from the tap - and, yeah, he loves that. But he'd rather be petted, and have some quality attention.

It's terribly disarming.

Whew. Caught up. So, in head-splodey-news. Well. Still under wraps. It was deemed the news should wait until next week, after the Festival is done, and we are on the normal crazy schedule, and not super charged PITA crazy schedule. :: sigh :: Can we just fast forward to June already?

as for nekkiness, my last visiting designer had pics of his family as his screen saver. A few were of the girls in the shower (like 2 +4 or something, I dunno). I joked with him saying "Jeez John, you got kiddie pron on your computer". He was like "eh. They are kids. Nudity happens"

It's terribly disarming.

As far as you know he saves your life ever. single. time. you go into that bathroom together.

There may be some danger only kitties are aware of. Some dread ghostie that has followed you ACROSS CONTINENTS.

My dog will randomly flip out sometimes. Whenever I scold her she looks at me with this smug little "someday I will save your life, human" look.

I have probably seen my mom naked on occasion, like changing rooms before going to the pool or something. But not in a wandering-around-the-house way. And I certainly haven't seen my dad naked anytime that I remember. And I'm JUST FINE with that.

I can totally see how the bar culture in the States is different. Maybe if ours was more like that, there'd be fewer problems with binge drinking.

...and yet there are a ton of people in the states that think just the opposite, that if we demystified alcohol and didn't have such a high drinking age, kids wouldn't sneak it and drink like crazy when they start, and so on. Oy.

Migraines suck. Especially when I forgot to restock my meds before this trip and have already used what I brought> GAH.

Erin, they are stupidheads. But what everyone else said about severanc and references. Good luck.

I think the dog's bathroom following comes down to three things: a) chance to beat you to the toilet, b) possibility that every time you leave the room it's to get treats, and finally, c) implacable opposition to the concept of a closed door. That last one may just be Lucy.