The bath routine is pretty static. The water is run, Ollie plays in the vanity and we undress him and put him in the tub when it is ready. Ollie then gets washed and he plays with his bath toys. Some nights the playing is over quickly others, it seems to last forever. Last night Ollie had a toy that he did not like at all.
He was squatting down, playing with his plastic toys when a Baby Ruth floated up from underneath him. No, I don't mean a CANDY BAR! A TURD! He kept playing for a few seconds until it floated within his vision. Then he got scared and began to scream. Apparently, floating turds are scary!
I picked him up out of the tub and got the rest of his toys out before they were tainted with poo. I wrapped him up in a towel, so he could get warm and to dry him off a bit. I started to drain the tub and got toilet paper to grab the turd so I could flush it. Ollie was still standing between the tub and toilet and when he saw it coming towards him he screamed like it was going to get him. I can just imagine a turd chasing a 2-year-old and how frightening that must be. It was to Ollie last night. I managed to flush it in between banshee wails, got him dried off and in his jammies. He was fine after a few minutes of resting his head on my shoulder and went on with his night like the scary turd never existed.
During all of this, I realized that I have grown (if that is what you want to call it) as a parent. Instead of making a big deal about it, I watched as the turd floated up and calmly took care of the situation. My son is screaming about a turd in the tub and I'm thinking ok, lets clean up the mess. Apparently, I don't think a turd in the tub is big deal anymore, I guess it happening twice makes you used to it. Now that's what I call real growth.
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