In the quiet of the bathroom

After a long day hiking through Provo's Rock Canyon, our bedtime routine was, to say the very least, a bit hasty.  I was trying to get Buddha to hustle with changing into his jammies in the bathroom, but he seemed to be dilly-dallying more than usual.  Finally, I rapped my knuckles on the door in exasperation and commanded him out in that daunting mother-knows-best tone we tend to reserve for the most dire of circumstances.  Mid rap, he flung open the door and stood there in his jammies with a silly grin on his face, dirty clothes AWOL.  He stepped out backwards and proceeded down the hallway in the same manner, never taking his eyes off my back as I advanced into his recently vacated position and scanned the bathroom with trepidation.  To my surprise and delight, there in the corner, draped over my mother's mosaic decor, was the reason for Buddha's lagging in the commode. He had been "arranging" his clothes; taking creative license, so to speak. I love this kid somethin' fierce, I tell ya.