“Mommy get up! I wan’ Mommy get up!”
It was only 5:00 a.m. and my two-year-old was patting my face with her open palm.
I tried to negotiate for five more minutes.
She wasn’t having it.
Leone yelled so loudly that she almost roused James, who can sleep through a dynamite explosion next to his head if it’s first thing in the morning.
I stumbled upright, cursing myself for staying up late playing hearts with friends and reading the second book of the Hunger Games series.
The heat doesn’t go on until 7 a.m. and it’s COLD in our house. So I suggested a bath. The warm water was almost as cozy as the bed.
I slid down until I was lying on my side, with even my face partially submerged, my toddler happily playing by my side.
That’s when it happened.
The great bathtub disaster
Leone was as shocked as I was.
We looked at the brown gunk that was now floating around the bathtub and neither of us, at first, was sure what it was.
Leone started doing poop in the potty at seven weeks and hasn’t pooped her pants since she was about 11 months old. She hasn’t EVER pooped in the tub or had any kind of bathtub disaster.
In twelve years of parenting this is the first time I’ve had to deal with fecal matter in the bath water.
I hustled us both out of the water, my brain buzzing with questions: How to clean a mostly diarrhea poop out of the tub? How to keep the more solid pieces from going down the drain? How is this bathtub disaster happening so early in the a.m.?
In the 19th century classic, The American Frugal Housewife, Lydia Maria Child suggests spicy peppers in the morning to liven a phlegmatic disposition.
I’ve got a better Wake Up Fast Method: lie in the tub with your mouth partially in the water when your 24-month-old daughter thinks she needs to fart.