“Good splashing!” I say to Lucy during bath time. She reacts by slapping her hands down even harder on the water around her. Sam gets in on the action, and soon Mark and I are both as wet as the two babies in the tub.
Bath time is a fun time in our house. Its noisy, its messy, its fun. Lucy and Sam love splashing themselves, each other and especially us. We have a couple bath toys, but they usually entertain themselves with shampoo bottles and good old fashioned splashing.
They were having a great time in the tub the other night, while Mark and I sat on the floor beside them. We were talking to each other, while Sam and Lucy babbled back and forth.
The next couple of events unfolded so quickly, it’s hard to recall what exactly happened first. But this is the way I remember it.
First, there was a smell.
“Did someone toot?” I asked the babies.
“Not me,” Mark said jokingly.
Then Mark noticed the objects in the tub.
“Hey, did we get some new bath toys?” he asked.
“No, we didn’t get any new bath toys.” I looked in the tub to see Lucy reaching for something floating in the water.
Then things started happening in slow motion.
“Then what is thaaaaaaaaaaat….” Mark didn’t even get a chance to finish the question before I started yelling.
“Pooooooooop! Pooooooooop! There’s poop in the bathtub! Lucy’s reaching for POOP!”
I reached down and scooped Lucy out of the now contaminated water before she had a chance to get her hands on one of the new “toys.”
In my haste, I forgot that we had TWO babies in the contaminated water. I looked down to see Sam now reaching for one of the floaties.
“More poop! More poop! Get Sam! GET SAM!”
I tried to jump out of the way, while Mark moved the sliding glass door to the other side of the tub so he could pull Sam out. Just as Sam’s little fingers were about to grasp onto the treasures, Mark plucked him out of the tub.
Narrowly avoiding what could have been a very messy a poop tragedy, Mark and I looked at each other and burst out laughing. Looking into your bathtub and seeing a couple nuggets floating in the water, will make you gag or it will make you cry with laughter. We were crying.
Poor Lucy and Sam didn’t understand what was happening. They didn’t know why they were so unceremoniously ripped away from their nightly bath, and they didn’t understand why they had to be wiped down again before we left the bathroom. And Lucy didn’t understand why Sam had more toys than her during bath time (yes, the floaties were near Sam’s end of the tub).
Once the hysteria had died down, and we were leaving the bathroom, Mark asked “What are the chances that you’re going to clean that up?”
“Not very good,” I replied.
“Excellent,” Mark said as he put Sam down in the bedroom, turned around and went downstairs to stock up on paper towels and Lysol before returning to the scene of the crime.
I married a good man.
