Last night I made my kids ice cream cones after they had finished their ravioli dinner. I usually offer up some kind of reward for whoever eats all of their ‘good’ food at supper time. Sometimes they take the bait and sometimes they don’t. Both kids love ice cream, but Ammie far surpasses Rhys in the ice cream lovin’…she’s totally obsessed. Anyways, she gobbled up her frozen treat after dinner last night and ended up looking more like the ice cream she was eating than a little girl, she had the stuff everywhere! I quickly scooped her up and plopped her into the bathtub to take care of the disaster. When Rhys finished eating his dessert he announced that he didn’t want to have a bath, but that he indeed needed to poop. Lovely. Rhys flung off all of his clothes (I don’t know why he does this, but it is quite frequent) and climbed up onto his potty seat to poop beside the bathing girl. I ran downstairs to grab something and by the time I had made it back into the bathroom Ammie was crouched down on one side of the tub looking at the foreign object that she had just deposited into the lukewarm water. Yes, my darling readers, she pooped. I suppose she was feeling left out as she watched Rhys empty his bowels. I ran outside and grabbed James from the shop yelling words like, “Poop” and “Both Kids” and “Naked” and “Floating!” Ah, what a disaster. James went and found something to scoop the poop out with as I wrapped up Ammie in a towel, sat her down on the floor of her bedroom and evacuated Rhys from the spill site. By the time I was finished with Rhys and turning the corner to take care of Ammie, she was jumping up and down on Rhys’ bed, naked, and still poopy. Little did I know, and in my panicked state forgot to check, there was still poop stuck to her baby bum. Well, not anymore for it had come off on Rhys’ pillow, on Rhys’ sheets, on Rhys’ quilt, on Rhys’ jacket. Poor Rhys. Thankfully I had accepted some bedding hand-me-downs from my Aunt, so we did have a back-up for Rhys to sleep on (which, when I went in to check on him late last night he was still wide awake sitting on his bed waiting for his washed tractor blanket). I’ve dealt with poop in the bathtub before (courtesy of my four year old) and I must say that every time it happens it just gets grosser and grosser. Really, trust me on this one. Oh, the things that you have to deal with when you’re a parent!
(that’s the chocolate ice cream on her face…)