One. Two. Bath Time

My son, Aaron is almost 3 and is slightly advanced for his age; he could dribble a basketball one-handed when he was 2 and by the time he was 2-1/2, he could dribble with both hands--two basketballs at once. He has been able to spell his name and write some letters since before he turned 2 and has a pretty expansive vocabulary, when he decides to use it (it is easier for him to point and have everyone else get stuff for him). He has also been able to identify colors, letters, recite the ABC's and count to 20, all before turning 2. (BRAG! BRAG!BRAG! BRAG!) Back in February of this year, while the other kids were at school, I had the brilliant idea to put Aaron in the tub and clean the bathroom while he was getting clean. He enjoys playing in the tub, as most kids do and I figured I could REALLY clean the bathroom, it was a plan of pure genius! After about a half an hour or so, I decided to give him some "new" warmer water and keep him in longer so that I could tackle the linen closet. You know, the dreaded place in the bathroom that holds the towels (shampoo, razors, hair products, diapers, wipes, make up, just about any kind of crap associated with a bathroom).

I get the tub temp nice and toasty for my little genius, complete with bubbles and lots of toys and begin pulling the closet apart. Let me explain something here, when we built this addition on our house several years (and several children) ago, the bathroom was not designed to have a linen closet in it, but thanks to my fabulous brother-in-law, Big Daddy, I managed to get the plans changed and the closet was built in the bathroom. This closet is big--I can get into it with the kids, close the door and have a tea party. ( I do not do things small scale) Where was I? Ah ,yes. The baby is in the tub, I decide to pull EVERYTHING out of the closet to really get it clean; towels, drawers, cosmetic cart, etc.. Aaron says to me, "Out Mama. I want out." The bathroom is a mess, I am not even close to retuning it to normal so I tell him, " Boo Boo, you just stay in a little longer, you like to take a bath." The following conversation ensues between a 41 year-old and a 2 year-old:



AA--"No Mama, I want out. I pick you up."



ME--"Boo Boo, Mama is almost done. Then I will get you out and I will pick you up."



AA--"I poop Mama."



ME--"What? You have to poop? Like on the potty? Do you want to go on the potty?" (I'm thinking: "my 2 year-old is so smart that he is going to potty train himself")



AA--"I POOP MAMA! OUT! OUT! I HOLD YOU! I POOP!"



At this point, he is standing in the tub, screaming to get out so being the ever attentive parent, I get out from the pile of crap that I have created to try and convince him to stay in the tub just a little longer...



ME--"AA what is wrong? Don't you want to play with Spiderman? Look at all the bubbles! You love to take a bath."



AA--"I poop. I----POOP!!!!!!! See? One, two POOPS. Two poops Mama. Two Poops."



I look at the heavily bubbled water and sure enough, like the Queen Elizabeth sailing through the fogged drenched ocean, I see it. Them. The two poops. And they are traveling full steam ahead toward my precious little boy...I pull him frantically out of the tub, drain it, scoop it (in the circus even the ring master has to clean up after the animals) and BLEACH EVERY-THING in sight! I am not, by any means a neat freak, but when there is fecal matter involved, I'm calling Clorox and we are having a party! After all was said and done and I called my sisters to relate the story (well anyone that answered their phone, or called me, heard the story) I managed to get the closet put back together and go on with the day--pick up the kids from school, homework, dinner, baths, bed--you know the drill. I hadn't really thought about the incident again until a couple of days later when it was time to get Aaron bathed again. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! NO BAF MAMA!!!!! TWO POOPS! TWO POOPS!" The boy would not go near the tub, let alone go IN the tub. What is a Mama to do? I take him down to the kitchen and give him a "shower" in the sink. It took a couple of months, but he no longer afraid of the poops in the tub. I wish I could say the same about Lucas, but that is another story for another time...