Ava has recently learned how to open and close doors. She’s even catching onto the locking system.
Every time I hear a door slam shut, I have to chase it down like Chris Hansen’s camera crew moving in on a pedophile. I’ve told Ava that I don’t want any closed doors in our house, I want to know exactly what’s going on at every minute. This will hopefully carry on through the teenage years, so I don’t have to kick the door in on a study date wielding a Louisville Slugger.
Last week, I heard one slam. I was trying to iron one of my wife’s linen crochet sweater things that was supposed to be ‘dried flat’ and not ‘slung over a railing’. I figured I had a few seconds to finish up and this was the result.
And I must’ve been too slow on this occasion, caught in the bathroom mid-wipe. Taking the luxury of properly cleaning my ass led to this.
No matter how old she is, I’ll never be comfortable with what goes on behind closed doors.