Squeaky clean! Right? Right?!?!?
Peaceful bath time fun? I should've known it was too good to last.
The Bath Time, Um… Incident.
Allow me, gentle reader, to take you on a journey that is not for the faint of heart. It begins with a toddler. A toddler showing all the signs of being nearly potty trained, and I, a mother who thought she’d avoided one of the many well-known parenting initiations. A mother who thought she could go on about her journey unscathed.
Let’s set the scene, shall we?
It was a calm Saturday afternoon, friends, when our intrepid toddler decided that an afternoon bath would be just the thing. Some playtime in the water? Lovely! Late enough in the day to take the place of a bath at bedtime? Perfect! Eager to get started, our young toddler selected bath toys, dutifully put her clothes in the hamper, and got to work with the pouring, sorting, floating, dumping, and all of the fantastic things that make bath time awesome.
I should have known that it was too good to last, friends. I should have known.
It was about 10 minutes into our joyous romp that my little cherub became panicked. I was right there with her. I’d seen nothing happen. So imagine my confusion when she suddenly began to fuss and scramble about the tub full of toys. Then she remembered that she has words, and my darling daughter began shouting “poop, mama, pooooop!” I tell you what, guys, nearly nothing gets my attention faster than shouting poop.
As it happens, my dainty little rosebud had misjudged a toot. Yep. Amongst the duckies, cups, and little boats, floated something never intended to be in my child’s bath. I froze.
Now, looking back I see my error. One could say that I’d made an error when I didn’t insist that she sit on the potty before jumping into the tub. But she’d just gone recently and I thought I was in the clear. (Note to future self: Parents are NEVER in the clear!) But no, friends, my error was freezing for that split second.
My brief moment to assess the situation and figure out my best course of action gave her a second to thrash about in the unfortunate water.
I’m sure that those of you reading this have used a blender at some point in your lives, so you pretty much feel me on this one. My husband refers to it as a “shartnado”, ’cause he’s a class act. (And I’m more than a little miffed that I didn’t think of that first.)
A happy ending for all.
And with that she was already on the point of climbing out of the tub. I guess I should have expected that, really, and even welcomed it, but at that point I not only had a tub to sterilize and a batch of toys to meticulously clean (or toss, they weren’t all winners), but I have a contaminated child dripping on the bathroom rug, and I have to keep her from taking off and running through the bedroom while at the same time trying to get everything (including her) cleaned up and not making it any worse.
I managed it, friends. In a rare moment of cooperation my tiny companion agreed to stand still while I, um, dealt with things, and got her into a nice cleansing shower. I hope that on some future Mothers’ Day, when she’s all grown up, she remembers the Bath Time Incident while shopping for a gift.
Knowing my luck, and her sense of humor, said memory will result in a framed fishnet with a print-out of this post as the background.
© 2019 Myra Breen