There once was a girl who lived in a McCastle in the McSuburbs. The most magical part of this castle was the sheer number of bathrooms. The entirety of the castle royalty could use the bathroom, ALL AT THE SAME TIME. It was a truly amazing place. Everyone was potty trained in luxury.

Alas, the girl’s prince turned into a frog, her magic castle disappeared into the McMist and she returned home to a tiny cottage on the river. It was a lovely, homey little place, but shockingly only had…ONE BATHROOM.

So, the erstwhile castle denizens had some serious adjustments to make. Schedules were made and enforced. In the summer, due to the overwhelming percentage of male residents, a Pee Tree was designated in the woods beside the house. A swim in the river was considered as good as a bath.

As the years passed, the children grew older and more aware of how incredibly important their hairdos were. So the bathroom fights were no longer just about who had to poo more, but centred around who needed the mirror to perfect their coif, and who was taking to long too do so.

The fights got bloody. Hairbrushes, pomade and Axe “messy look” gel became the weapons of choice. Death by mousse was a distinct risk.

So, the girl decided to try and install a second bathroom in the basement to keep the peace.

This plan was quickly scrapped once she discovered that such a room would require a $1500 pump toilet. FIFTEEN HUNDRED BUCKS?? No wonder they call it the throne.

The dream of more than one bathroom faded into the mist, along with the McCastle, and hair stations began to spring up all over the house. Everywhere you turned there were baskets full of hair product, hair ties, gel, mousse and pomade….oh the pomade. So. Much. Pomade. Come the Armageddon, if you want great hair, come here. We got you.

The moral of the story – it’s not the end of the world if your castle turns into a cottage. You can do your hair in the kitchen and pee on a tree. The sun still rises and sets in the same beautiful way – just make sure you’re not watching it downwind of the oak in the corner of our yard.