Int. Mid-Day. A townhouse in suburbia.
A giggling and adorable three year old boy zooms around a corner and into a powder room. The child must dodge around the door and around the Bjorn potty chair that is wedged into the small room. He is chased by his mother, a youngish oldish type that looks really familiar in a vague way.
Child: 'Mommy you NO GET MEEEE haaaahahahhaa'
Mother: 'Oh I am gonna GET YOUUUUU hahahaaaa'
The child closes the powder room door as his mother stops short. The 'CLICK' of the door locking is audible.
We see the waves of thought pass over the mother's face. Is he safe? Do I know how to unlock the door from the outside? What should I do , he's actually contained for a moment?
The mother jogs up the stairs. She enters her master bedroom and picks up a small box of large paper clips. Opens box, removes a single one. Unbends it part-way. With this she will unlock the door.
The mother jogs back down the stairs.
The bathroom door is open.
There is pee all over the floor. The mother shakes her head and wonders 'why' for a split second before going into the kitchen for some towels.