Guilty Pleasures

The PostSecret post has got me thinking about guilty pleasures and how they have changed for me over the years.

As a child guilty pleasures used to be things like eating the cake that my Grandpa hadn't eaten for lunch and gave to me and said don't tell Nanny. Or finding the stash of bandaids and covering my knees in them, cause bandaids rocked when I was three.

At school guilty pleasures were reading under the desk in year 8 English, playing cards in free periods during year 12 instead of studying, or signing ourselves out of school when we were eighteen and going off down the street at lunchtimes. Just because we could, but shouldn't have.

At Uni guilty pleasures included cutting lectures to go shopping in China town, or just sitting down stairs in the bar and watching people go by. Before marriage it was sneaking in naughties when Dave's parents were home without getting caught.

After marriage it was admiring a nice male bottom or set of legs, not necessarily the ones I had married.

Post toddler it seems that my number one guilty pleasure is going to the toilet by myself. It is ridiculous to feel guilty locking the door so I have five minutes peace on the bog, but by the amount of screaming going on outside you'd think that monsters were about to devour my son unless he could sit on Mummy's knee within the next three seconds. A close second is eating a biscuit without those big blue eyes widening in horror that one less biscuit is going to be going into that little rosebud mouth. Third is the guilty pleasure of putting my feet up and reading a book while Charlie is being bathed by Dad.

I wonder what my guilty pleasures will be in 10 years?