The sun was beginning to set. Dinner had been eaten and the boys were getting ready for bed. Son #2 joyfully splashed in the tub. His tug boat bobbed up and down while little rafts floated about in the water. Son #2 shrieked with delight as water droplets landed on his face. He stomped like Godzilla from one end of the tub to the other end. Then, he inspected the faucet.
I listened to my tiny son play as I sat on the living room floor. My husband and I had spent the day working in the garden. We were exhausted and taking advantage of the quiet evening. My husband sat on the couch drinking from a water bottle. A silly movie had half of our attention while we were shooting the breeze. In the middle of our conversation, I heard some grunting coming from the bathroom.
"__________! He's pooping in the tub!" I yelled as I sprinted to the bathroom. Words fail to describe what happened next.
I rushed to my baby. There he stood clasping the faucet grunting with all his might. Runny, yellow diarrhea splashed into the bath water like a fountain. Two solid turds floated in the yellow, foamy mess. Bath tub toys bobbed about desperately reaching for clean air. Wash cloths sank to the murky bottom of the putrid basin.
I shrieked to my husband. "Oh nasty! Help me!"
My husband popped his head into the bathroom and said. "I can't. I'm on the phone. The air conditioning just broke and I'm calling the repair man."
(Blankety-blank air conditioning!)
I lifted Son #2 from the foul stew and placed him onto the bathroom floor. Quickly, I wiped the streaks of yellow diarrhea from his legs and bottom. Then, I flushed it down the toilet. After semi-cleansing my baby, I ran to the garage to ask for a pair of gloves. My husband generously handed over his last pair. Now, I was armed and ready for the rancid task that lay before me.
Back in the bathroom, I scooped up the loathsome wash cloths, squeezed out the rank water, and rushed them to the washing machine. My husband brought me a bucket and I proceeded to load it with the feculent toys. Praise God for bleach otherwise I would have to dispose of everything.
While I was disinfecting the tub, I noticed that my naked baby was playing in the toilet.
Mother of Pearl!
Not the toilet!!!
Things had gone from bad to worse. My baby reached his chubby hand into the toilet and splashed with delight. Toilet water droplets scattered across the bathroom floor. Son #2 giggled with glee. He swished and swirled the water around as I frantically cleaned the tub.
I shouted to my husband. "He's playing in the toilet!!!!"
My husband tried to console me. "At least THAT water is clean!"
Cleaner than what?!
I tried not to dwell on the fact that my baby had emptied the contents of the toilet bowl onto himself and the floor. I also tried to ignore the moisture where I stood. My baby was still naked so the makeup of the moisture by my feet was a toss up between toilet water and pee.
Finally, I finished cleaning the tub. I lifted my baby into the newly disinfected basin and filled the bottom with warm water. Then, I proceeded to scrub my baby clean. I wrapped my baby in a fresh, fluffy towel and walked into the living room. My husband looked up and said. "Look at my boy! You're all nice and clean. No more diarrhea!"
Son #2 chortled impishly.
My husband responded with surprise. "He thinks this is funny!"