So I am giving The Nugget her bath the other night. All is right with the world; she is splashing and playing and having a fine time, which she usually does while bathing. A few minutes in, though, I hear a little "toot". And then she says, "poop."
I will remind you all that The Nugget is not potty trained. She appears to be able to make some sort of loose association with the word poop, but she has never once gone on the potty or accurately alerted me to her need to (or completion of) poop.
So, I say, "Do you have to poop?" Those of you who read this blog will know that her response was, "Okay." She then went on to continue splashing and playing, so I assumed that she had probably just had some gas and continued watching her play.
Pretty soon, The Nugget is making what can only be described as a "poop face". I go into overdrive, grabbing the potty seat and latching it onto the toilet and whisking her out of the tub and... realizing that I was too late. Amid the thousand toys that were floating in her bath water, we had the unmistakable reality of poop.
Prior to encountering this situation, I had somehow imagined that if the child ever pooped in the tub it would be no big deal. I would just scoop the offending poop out of the tub and we would commence with the bath. Clearly, my imagination left a lot to be desired. In reality, the poop immediately starts dissolving in the water. It is touching EVERYTHING in the stupid tub. I have a sopping wet baby standing in the bathroom (who also takes this opportunity to pee on the floor) and I have to stick my freaking hand into the now contaminated tub water in order to drain it. Grrrrr!
Lucky for me, some time ago I bought the nugget a tiny toy fishing net for the bathtub. It did not at all occur to me at the time, but this little baby came in quite handy in this situation. At least for the big, nasty pieces I could readily scoop them into the net and flush them away! Now that just left boiling and bleaching and scrubbing, oh my.
Of course, the more pressing issue was my freezing, wet daughter who was by now standing in a puddle of her own urine. Super duper. So, I grabbed the babe in a towel, threw another towel down to sop up the pee and shut the bathroom door and didn't go back in there for two days.
Don't judge. You'd be in no rush to tackle this task either. Besides, I eventually got to the boiling water and bleach part of the operation.
In the meantime, the big lessons learned from this experience were:
1. My imagination and reality have little to do with one another.
2. I need some sort of HAZMAT team on speed dial for these situations. I am ill equipped to handle them.
3. I will believe The Nugget the next time she tells me she needs to poop.