The King of His Castle? Apparently Not In The Throne Room.

I normally don't require much time in the bathroom. A few minutes to shower and a few more minutes to shave and I'm done.  The size of our home's lonesome bathroom doesn't suit more than one person very comfortably. And my wife... well, let's just say it's a good thing I don't need "the good light" in the bathroom very often. 

Every two weeks I need some time in the mirror to cut my hair.  I taught myself how to face backward in the bathroom mirror while holding a hand mirror and not slice off an ear.  My hair cuts are just about the only place I'm frugal. I refuse to pay $15 when I can (evidently) do it myself.

Most of the time, there is enough time right before she wakes up to cut my hair and shower before she needs to commandeer the facilities. This particular day, I allowed her to shower first.  I figured that I could get the kid's breakfast and lunch made during the time she took to shower and put her face on. I had assumed she was done, and as I glanced at the clock, I concluded that I could still give myself a trim and get out of the house on time.

Shortly after the clippers start buzzing, my lovely little daughter prances in with a high-pitched "G'mornin' Daddy," and perches herself on the toilet. I didn't think much of it, it's 7:30am who doesn't need to go first thing in the morning?

As I was shearing my head, my nose began to detect a tang in the air.  It took a minute or so for my brain to diagnose what was happening...

"Air you poopin," I questioned in a shocked and despaired tone.  "Yes," she replied with undeniable cuteness.  I couldn't help but feel a bit disrespected.  Do I barge in during her bath tub time? Does she get strong-armed while she's brushing her teeth?  I can't have 10 minutes? I peeked over at her. She smiled, and of course I smiled back. "Oh well," I thought. I used to change the kid's diapers, and soon things wouldn't so familiar. Before long she'll be a tweenager sassing me out the door.

Just as Faith is finishing up, Julie strolls in, excuses herself past me and starts rummaging in one of the drawers of the vanity.  I wasn't paying much attention to the commotion because I was making sure that my 'do was even.  Soon, we're shoulder-to-shoulder, jockeying for mirror space.

Our bathroom mirror is actually a cabinet with three vertical glass doors.  I started out using the middle one, but magically found myself crammed against the wall using the one on the right as my beautiful wife's flying elbows created a perimeter and staking claim to 66% of the available mirror space.

I mentioned to her that I was nearly done, and the mirror would be hers, but she insisted that she was nearly done as well.  My statement of initial occupation of the facilities fell on deaf ears.

It was at this moment that I realized the pecking order in my house.  I knew that I was outnumbered. Living with a wife and daughter would often cause my manly instincts to be compromised on occasion. But during a hair cut?!  I was essentially ignored on this particular day.  Well, maybe not ignored, but I was literally pushed aside.  Let's see how quickly I spring into action next time a bug needs squashed or a jar needs opened.