Here’s a good one for the scrapbook from Sam.
While Cara was traveling last week, I had the opportunity to spend some quality time with the kids. Little Nick needed a bath- but he refused to get in until I suggested that he share his bath with Catherine. Nick couldn’t have been more excited and immediately stripped down and jumped in the tub. I put Catherine in and the two of them were pleased as punch. Both were splashing away and having a great time.
I saw it. A little fleck of floating flotsam that was a harbinger of bad things to come.
I told Nicky to get out quickly and he protested until I told him that I thought Catherine was about to poop. Little Nick exploded out of the tub and stood staring, dripping, with saucer-plate eyes while I picked baby Catherine up. To reveal three compact cat-like turds in her baby seat. So now I’ve got soaking baby in my hands with a poopy bottom, and I’m considering my plan of action to dry and decontaminate the baby in the least messy way possible- when I see it out of the corner of my eye. Nicky pointing at the poop. And peeing on the floor.
Baby is quickly transferred to a one-hand grasp, I jam Nick’s towel against him to sop up the rest of the unfolding disaster, and the situation is contained.
It could have been worse. Nick could have discovered a floater and picked it up, the girl could have pooped more while I was holding her, the cat could have jumped in and eaten the evidence, but at the time I was sure that it couldn’t have gone less smoothly. I see this as evidence of what a great job Cara is doing- you leave me alone with the kids for one night and they both end up in their own mess!
Addendum, Nicky just peeked over my shoulder as I was looking at this post and after seeing the picture said, “where’s baby’s poop?” Great…