After the shower I walk out with a towel my head. Besides that, I'm fully dressed because I know better than to expect privacy once I open the door.
Every time I close my bathroom door the children are pulled towards it and held in some 15 foot hover-zone.
Zoe is editing a video (loudly); Zack is shirtless laying on my floor in sit-up position on my yoga mat, his feet are tucked under my heavy dumbbells.
His "major goal" this summer is to get a a 6-pack of hard abs and pretty much will do any exercise you tell him will give him a 6-pack (including the very ab-specific carrying of groceries in from the car, try it, no joke).
As he exales, he says "Siiixxxxxxx" then back down, then up again, "sevvvvvennnnnn......"
I cock my head.
My special Mother senses tell me this is wrong, all wrong.
He can do better.
I must show him how.
"Zack, whenever someone walks in on you exercising, you must immediately go to 127. And say it like you're super happy and out of breath at the same time..."
He lays back, and starts to do a sit up but I stop him "WAIT, NO, I have to leave the room!"
First I think to take a step backwards and go back into the bathroom and blowdry my hair in this peaceful eye of the storm. But it's too hot in the bathroom, so I walked across the room and out the bedroom door and closed it behind me.
I walked in and Zack, perfectly on cue said, "127!" and Zoe and I laughed.
Then he went back down, and on the way back up, said "NNNNNinnnnnnne"
"What? What?" I said, "Do you know what happens to campers who try to outsmart their Camp Director and fitness trainers?" and I threw myself down on the floor and wrestled with him and tickled him until both our stomachs hurt from laughing.