It finally happened.
It hasn't happened in my almost six years of being a parent. I've avoided it, somehow. But last night, it happened.
I was perched on the counter of the kid's bathroom, plucking my eyebrows, because any good mommy knows that is the only time and place one can get that sort of business done. And naturally since I was in the bathroom taking the time to tame the woolly caterpillars adorning my forehead, a child was getting squeaky clean. The child in question was Sugarbaby.
There I was ooohing and aaaahing and wincing and contorting my face and arms into ridiculous positions when I heard it. A grunt. Followed by...a splash.
She. Pooped. In. The. Tub.
I froze. She froze. We looked at each other. My look said, "Don't you dare reach down and touch it before I can get my butt off this counter and find something appropriate to scoop it out with." Her look said, "If you ever tell anyone about this when I am older, I will permanently remove those eyebrows while you are sleeping."
Too late darling. I just told the whole blogosphere.
I'm sure this has happened to a few of you. Okay more than a few. I've heard for years that its just a rite of passage and almost all children accidentally drop the deuce in the tub at some point. But I thought I was safe. I thought that if it was going to happen, surely it would happen with one of the boys. You know, the ones who think farts are funny and poop is something to describe verbatim at dinnertime.
I never in a million years expected my sweet sweet daughter to poop in the tub.
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