Cosmic Irony

So I'm sitting on the bathroom floor facebooking while Jack takes his bath.

It's all so sweet. So soapy. So bubbly. So clean.

And then I hear it:

A rumble that could wake the dead.

I look up in horror and see what no parent wants to see on their child's face as the child's taking a bath:

The poopy eyebrows.

The rumbling continues and the poopy eyebrows become more intense. His face is now turning red and his shoulders are scrunched up around his ears. His face is all contorted as if to say, "Push it out, push it out, waaaaaay out!"

What do I do?

I'm struck by the shear helplessness of the situation. Do I pick him up and remove him from the tub mid-poop-shoot? Do I wait till he's finished? Do I scold him? Do I shake my fist at God and implore Him as to why He would allow such a thing? Do I cry? Do I vomit?

I opted to just stand there and shake my head in despair as my dreams of winning Mother of the Year were ripped to shreds.

Jack interrupted my despair by saying (with grave concern) "Momma, I dropped my poo-poo - I dropped my poo-poo!"

Of course it was in our beautiful, luxurious jacuzzi tub with 10 jets (2 of which will never be the same again). Every single one of his bath toys was in the tub with him when he made "the drop."

I will spare you any details on the drop-off itself other than to say - it had it's own debris field that came along with it. I trust you can imagine what that was like.

Sigh...

The tub has been cleaned, disinfected and rinsed. The bath toys have been thrown away. Jack has been given a second bath. We've ordered Jack an ID bracelet that lets people know he's something of a biohazard.

Life returns to normal.

I suppose I deserve this after dressing up as a piece of pooh for Halloween (click here for details on that). If this is how things work, then next year for Halloween I will be dressing up as a million dollars.