You can use the toilet if you want. The toilet flushes just fine as long as you don't use too much toilet paper and as long as you don't poop in the toilet. If you want to poop, you must use the upstairs toilet EVERYONE uses constantly or the downstairs toilet that is in the basement with no walls or doors. So there are plenty of choices for you to make.
But not this one. This toilet, you may not use. This is the one with the only working lock and I am using it. Go away.
There are consequences for disobedience. The toilet will back up and leave icky water and sometimes solid pieces of your poo on Mom's floor. Then if MOM has to reach her hand in and unplug YOUR POO from the toilet, she is gonna yell at you something fierce and complain about how now everything smells like YOUR POO because really, despite scrubbing, scrubbing and more scrubbing... iw. Her hand should not have to physically smash up YOUR poo and push it down the drain on a regular basis, nor should she have to wipe flooded floors and wash urine-soaked towels, pick bits of YOUR toilet paper off the sides of her washer... Just... Iw.
Can we not learn this one simple rule?
D has been bugging me to call a plumber. The longer I wait, though, the more "new" the fix will be when we finally get it, and consequently the longer the fix will last. Maybe I would have had to fix this problem twice already and here I've gone and saved lots of money and aggravation for everyone. Just remember *the rule,* ok? Only four of you children use the toilet, and you're boys. Obeying this shouldn't be so hard.
But nooooo. So, lo and behold, of course Patrick has to disobey *the rule.* His consequence is that he is forced to (bleh) deal with the toilet right before dinner with me in the background yelling about the mess on the floor and why don't you ever listen and IW IW IW IW yuuuuuuck and other helpful Momisms. And get another towel because I'm not happy about the floor yet. And can't you just go poo downstairs in your own room instead? SURE, that room has no wall and everyone can see you, and SURE there we can say it's not so warm downstairs... but quit being so picky. We have running water. Don't you make me look up the missionary blogs or you'll be sorry, mister.
Right out of the blue, Patrick tells me that he's glad he's not homeschooled because at LEAST at public school, the toilets work and they'll flush about anything you could think of...
(Whoo, he just went there...) "You know something?" I told him. "I'm paying for those toilets. AND I'm paying for the toilets here..."
"You are NOT paying for the toilets here," he counters. "I mean, what's the point of HAVING a toilet here if you can't USE it?"
"Fine," I tell him. "I've been telling you not to USE it all this time. Problem solved, ok?? You can now pretend this toilet is NOT here and go use a different one, thanks." Then I went in to start getting my things together for a shower and Patrick got all crazy that *I* was using the forbidden bathroom. You know, the one with the only shower. Oh, my, did we get into a fight.
I'm not sure if it started when he used the toilet or dissed my homeschool, but it was ooooon.
D has mandated that I call a stupid plumber already. I don't want to, though. I think if everyone would just obey *the rule,* we could save a lot of money and I would get this bathroom to myself. You know, the only one with a working lock? Did I mention that?