Bathroom Nightmares

Little boys are disgusting. It should be no surprise. Yet I am surprised each time I enter my bathroom.
It often resembles the toilet scene from Trainspotting when Renton enters “the worst toilet in Scotland”:
It is revolting. How hard is it to hit the bowl or flush the toilet?
I don’t want to be wading through your pee. I don’t want to sit on a wet seat. I don’t want to be subjected to your deposits. And I do not want to wipe my arse with wet toilet paper that I need to pick up from the wet floor.
Rant over?
My wife? Well she might move out. She is struggling. The blood curdling screams that emanate from the bathroom following a full clean are ear destroying.
“I’ve just cleaned that bathroOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMM!!!!!!!”
Please help. Can someone offer some advice? What is the best way to deal with this?
We have tried talking, explaining, demonstrating, discussing, shouting and reprimanding. We have made them clean up after themselves, sprayed them with water like a dog when they miss, tied electrical wires to their testicles and waterboarded them.
Nothing seems to work.
What are they doing in there? They are not grappling with a python or taming a wild horse. They are not wrestling an uncontrollable fireman’s hose.
It’s really not that hard to keep control.
I think they just lose focus. Going to the toilet for a child is a necessary evil. An inevitable obstacle on their way to whatever it is they were previously doing. Held until the very last moment. Do they just stand there as their minds wander – looking around the bathroom – the direction of their penis following the direction of their heads? I think they must.
I’ve walked in on the two of them having pee fights. My shout of “you are not Ghostbusters – don’t cross the streams” gets a puzzled look
Their light-saber duel – while impressively done with wooshing sound effects – contributes as wee is arced back and forth across the bowl.
Then I lose the plot. A full on melt down. I make them get down on their hands and knees and clean it up. Out comes the spray and wipe.
But that drives me even madder!
“Don’t spray so much, you are missing the spot…….now your hands are covered in it – NO! Don’t touch the door handle, the bowl or ME……get away from me!! No STOP IT! That’s disgusting….get out of here….no don’t …right…..that’s it!……get in the shower……!!!!
And ultimately I still have to clean up.
If I only had to contend with the occasional wet seat I would be ok.
But chipping chunks of hardened toothpaste off the sink bowl and surrounding benchtop is yet another bathroom bane.
Just squeeze a little out the tube. Don’t grip it like a pole vaulter
It seems like every morning I am trying to squeeze toothpaste through the hardened top crust of the tube….a pinprick opening allows a sliver of hair-like paste to emerge. Until of course the crust breaks off the top and a large globule of minty freshness lands on my shirt.
Not the best way to start the morning. And it doesn’t help when I look into the bath and see yesterday’s shampoo purchase lying upside down in its own sticky mess.
Are you kidding me!!!
“MAAAAAAXXXX……..ZZZZAAAAAAKKKKKKKK – who has wasted the shampoo AGAIN!!!
“It was Max.”
“It was Zak.”
They both chirp.
I can’t handle it anymore so I storm out the bathroom slipping on the soap as I reach the door.
Oh for FUCK SAKE…..
What a way to start the day.