The Bath Torpedo Strikes Again
It has been quite some time since there has been a treasure in the bath tub, in fact, according to a previous blog post, it has been exactly 6 months, to the day, since the last time a brown surprise reared its head (see what I did there), at least I am cracking myself up.
Last night, Daddy and Noah took a bath. Daddy got out, as we usually do, as the water drains, and Noah continued to play with his toys for a little while. Mommy and Noah were playing with toys on the edge of the bath tub and giggling at whatever game Noah made up. We were trying to put Noah to bed a little earlier last night as he woke super early that morning.
I was about to grab Noah out of the tub, to dry him off and put his diaper and pajamas on, when a very distinct smell wafted its way directly into my nose. The smell of poop filled the surrounding air, accompanied by Noah saying “poop,” over and over.
As a blind Mom, the only way to know where poop is, is to touch it. There was definitely poop inside of Noah’s little butt, but where else was it?
All of a sudden Noah said, “hand, sticky,” and right then and there, I knew that he must have had poop on his hand and I immediately thought that he had been finger-painting in the tub.
I quickly yelled down to Tim for assistance, who was double checking food that we had cooking in the oven.
When Tim came up, sure enough, a nicely formed log was resting in the middle of our bathtub. Thankfully, Noah had not stepped in it, and was not playing with it, but he must have touched his butt for it to be on his hand.
Fortunately, after scrubbing and washing Noah’s hands, there was no more poop to be found on his body. He must have done it after all of the water had drained.
I always think, what if? What if I had lifted Noah out of the tub, not knowing there was poop? What if one of us was in the tub with him? What if it got everywhere or he stepped in it and how would I clean it?
Tim and I kept our cool and remained calm, because it was really no big deal at all. We can easily wash the toys and the tub.
Noah said “sorry,” and it melted my heart. We wanted to make sure that he knew it was OK, and that it was an accident. We quickly changed the subject, dressed him in his pajamas, and read our books before bed.
As a spouse and a parent, we choose to pick our battles. We usually raise our voice or make a big deal of something that is dangerous or a safety concern, such as running into the road etc. For something like this, it is out of anyone’s control, and therefore, not worth getting upset or worked up about. Tim and I tag-teamed the bathroom after Noah went to bed, laughed about it afterwards, and moved on with our night.