First, you enter the bathroom. At this point in parenthood, you don't even bother to shut the door. Because you have a 3YO who prefers not to have a closed door interrupting her proximity to you and a husband who thinks it is hilarious to open it a crack to let in the kids anyway. Privacy is futile.
You sit down to do your business.
You hear the fateful stomp-stomp-stomp of your toddler's angled unsteady walk heading your way.
He is in the doorway and smiles and yells in glee. He's found you!
You are not so gleeful at the moment.
He enters the bathroom and promptly shuts the door. And locks it. He does like his privacy.
You pray your bodily functions speed up.
He spies the toilet paper and his eyes light up. He toddles over to it and whump-whump-whump -- down on the floor puddles a pile of toilet paper.
You gently admonish him and begin to roll it back up.
He tries to grab at the streaming paper. And manages to latch hold and begin to shred the toilet paper. What a fun new game he's discovered!
You shout for your husband to get the *#$#% in here and get the baby.
You forget your toddler has locked the door. You curse again. You lean carefully over to open it, trying to retain some contact with the seat as said toddler is as fascinated with playing in an open (and used) toilet as he is with the toilet paper roll. Enough destruction has occurred this time. Despite frequent sweater sleeve issues, you are grateful for long arms.
Your husband retrieves the errant toddler, who is shouting protests at his removal, and blessedly shuts the door.
You make a mental note to go to the bathroom upstairs next time.