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This afternoon, I was puttering around in my kitchen which is across the entryway into the house from our home office.  A few years ago I got the bright idea to have a hole cut into the wall and a pocket door put in so that I would have two doors into that bedroom.  Then I would remove the broken window from the other bedroom where Greg’s monstrosity of a desk resided so that I could move it to the other  room through the new pocket door.  Ultimately this turned out to be one of my better design ideas, unfortunately, though, it followed one of my worst.  That was the decision to buy the desk when I worked for Ethan Allen.   I got a great price on it because the collection was being discontinued.  I read the measurements to make sure it could get into the room we wanted it for.   That room is now the boys’ bedroom.  Great!  The deepest part was 30”, and so were my doors—perfect!  Okay, for future reference—30” interior doors are actually 29.5”.  That, and the desk was 30” on three sides which meant there was no way to turn it to angle it into the room—but it was in my hallway, and it was mine.  Thanks, delivery guys—better luck next time—oh, yeah, and here’s to hoping you don’t have this problem with any of my design clients!  I’ll be over here in the corner sobbing and drinking…

My neighbor and I had to remove the window to get the desk in the room and (naturally) I broke one of the panes when we put it back.  By grace, it never leaked, and I just planned to change the window when we sold the house (if that ever happened), since that desk would be going nowhere in the meantime.

Then the light bulb moment.  Install a pocket door in the wall inside the front door that was 32” wide or more and create a better functioning home office open to the main part of the house, or future playroom for any mom that wants to see what her children are doing while she is playing the role of Betty Crocker or Martha Stewart.  I was very long-sighted in this decision, as I had no intentions of cooking and watching my children—I just wanted the behemoth desk and broken window issue solved, and so it was!

Now I had a track around the interior of my home that boys could chase, drive, and run around.  Okay, so I wasn’t that long-sighted.

It wasn’t until this afternoon, that I realized that I had also put in a third bathroom in this same space.  I was wondering where Pierce was, and I saw that the pocket door was moving a little bit.  I know it’s rather a fun toy for a tot until their fingers get pinched, but what the heck—he was having fun.  But then it got quiet and the door stayed closed.  Every mother knows when things get too quiet with their children that something pretty awful is going on.  Truly, Mikey and Pierce aren’t very bad about getting into things that they know they shouldn’t, but then, I have found my older one with a digital camera, his underwear down, and creepy leer on his face, so it’s always good to check on them.

I quietly slid the pocket door open and peeked in, and Pierce was standing at my desk fiddling with my stapler.  It could have been bad, except, that he was doing it absent-mindedly, because he was trying to poop in his pants.  We still aren’t totally potty trained as long as we have clothes on.  He turned to me and put his finger to his lips and gave me a lispy “shhhhhhh.”  Everything I tried to ask him, he simply “shhhh’d” me while staring intently like something else was going on.  I even got “shhhhh’d” when I asked him if he was pooping his pants, so I slid the door closed and left him to his business.  Actually when I sat down to type this, I noticed the door closed again, and now he is out, and also a little rank,.  He really seems to require privacy, but why he can’t find it in the bathroom, ON THE POTTY, is beyond me.