Whump.

Growing up in a family of four boys, there was not much call to put the toilet seat down after going to the bathroom. Had we the pleasure of a middle sister or so, the complaints might have seeped through to our consciousness.

But my mother never asked us once to put the seat down. She was frankly too busy making dinners and working a full-time job as a teacher to worry about the seeming trifles of sloppy, athletic boys. The one thing about which we were organized and attentive to a fault was chowing down when dinner was served.

We were like a bunch of hungry cats. She’d sit at the table and gaze at us with joy and love, excusing our many boyish habits despite the fatigue it likely caused her.

Changing times

Fast forward to actually living with a woman you love, or a houseful of…