UHH, PLEASE TELL ME THAT’S A SUNKEN BABY RUTH…

Let me tell you about my oldest son and his foul little habit. Since this boy was a baby, he would occasionally and spontaneously poop in the tub. The first time his bowels moved in the baby tub, it was cute. Everything babies do is usually considered cute or precious; spitting up all over your brand new shirt, peeing in your face in mid-diaper change or yacking up on your nice clean comforter. These are just some of  the things newborns and infants do warranting a smile and click of the camera from the parent. Why? Because babies are so innocent and they have no idea what the hell they’re doing!

Now, as a baby, my son would poop in the water, but it seemed as though this would only take place when only I gave him the bath, never with daddy.  This lead me to believe that both he and my husband had some sort of male driven conspiracy against the matriarch of the family.

I honestly figured this whole crapping in the water thing was a brief phase, something he would grow out of fairly quickly. Clearly, I was wrong. This boy still dumps in the tub and has no shame doing it! 

Just last night, I put him in the tub and let him play as I usually do. He was happy as a pig in slop, splashing water on the floor, writing on the sides of the tub with bath markers and talking up a jibber-jabbering storm. But I knew something was up as soon as a pin-dropping, silence took over our master bathroom. I immediately honed in on my son who was crouched in a squatting position with a grimacing expression on his little 18 month old, toddler face. I knew right then what he was up to, yet again, for the third time that week!

At the time, I was speaking with my mom on the phone. I broke the conversation immediately, and rushed her off the phone and frantically yelled, “Noooooo, Boy-Boy! Not in the tub!” 

His little innocent face and big brown eyeballs, casually looked up at me at said, “Boo-boo?”

“Yes, boo-boo, boy. And don’t touch it! We have to hurry and wash you up and get these turds to the toilet”, I responded impatiently.

In 30 seconds or so, I scrambled to wash him up, (double time on his poop-crumbed booty), drained the tub and kept any near-by bath toys away from the sunken butt logs, and finally, removed and transported the three warm toddler-turds from our giant tub with a plastic bag wrapped around my hand to our toilet.

Just as I’m about to dry him off, my husband comes in the room, laughing his ass off.

“What the hell is so funny?” I asked him annoyed.

“Everything is life and death with you!” he pointed out. “You probably woke up the freakin’ neighbors the way you yelled, ‘Noooooooo!’ Just take him out and disinfect the damn tub and be done with it, move on!” 

I may be life and death, but has it ever crossed his mind that he’s too damn laid back? Picking up little boy pebbles on a daily basis from our bathtub is a serious matter to me! Sheesh!

Mind you, I have seized a severe amount of fecal matter from our tub for the last year and each time, I grab the closest thing I can find to remove them as quick as possible. You might think that I would be use to this by now, but each and every time, the situation is treated as though it is the first occurrence. I take this pooping thing personal! I have tried to take my son out of the tub when I see him assume the position, and sit him on our toilet, but he freaks out, thinking the giant hole will swallow his tiny body and whisk him away to the sea or wherever our waste goes. I feel for him, it’s a nice warm tub that warms and marinates his little jam-packed bowels; the poop probably just eases on out!

All I’m saying, is that this pooping in the bathtub thing has got to stop sooner or later, right? Once upon a time, it used to be cute, but now? Yeah, not so cute now. His toddler pebbles will be so much cuter in the potty where they belong!