We have all been in hotels and rich friends' houses that have one: The Bidet. Used in almost every other place than America, it is the lazy way to get out of taking a real shower.
Other than an unfortunate time when I was eight and my friend and I completely ruined the paint job of her mom's bathroom, I have never used one as intended.
This weekend was different.
We were staying at a very fabulous hotel and got upgraded to the penthouse. (Darling Husband actually slipped the desk girl a 20 and all of a sudden we are Rockafellers.) Anyway, there was a Bidet in the master bath.
All week I stared at it. I turned on and off the faucets. I inspected the height of the fountain.
I decided it couldn't be THAT scary or bad. So on I hopped.
The lesson for the future is to make sure the door is locked so that when Baby Boy's curiosity (and very quiet feet) get the best of him and he cranks on the cold handle, I am prepared.
The Bidet quickly became the Bidon't.