You're not cool unless you poop in the tub.

I've heard the stories.  My best friend Kristine's poop stories are legendary.  LEGENDARY.   But it hadn't happened to us.   That is, until last night.

We are in full swing daily bath season, because PJ being a typical boy, is filthy by the time the day is done.  Which is fine with me, because he's having fun, and really that is all that matters.  So the past two nights, before getting in the tub, my naked baby peed on me.  It's not the first time, it won't be the last time, but peed on me nonetheless.  So last night, when getting him ready for the bath, I said, "Don't pee on Mommy tonight!"  I should have known.

We get in the tub and all is well.  PJ's swimming around, playing, enjoying himself.  Suddenly, he stops swimming and just is sitting there on all fours.  I think nothing of it.  All of a sudden I look, and like the baby ruth floating in the water in Caddyshack, there's poop.  Two pieces. 

"OH MY GOD!! PJ!""  I yelled.  I grabbed him out of the water, and BURST out laughing.

John comes running in.  "What happened?"

"PJ pooped in the tub!"  Mind you this entire time, PJ is clutching his foam letter L (so nice, was that for Mommy buddy) and smiling.

I could. not. stop. laughing.  I laughed the entire time I got PJ dressed, the entire time I scooped the poop out of the tub, and the entire time I rinsed the tub down.  Luckily, it was not much poop and it didn't do much damage at all.

Ah motherhood.   You never think, "One day, I'm gonna be scooping shit out of my bathtub."

I love you PJ.

And if you are wondering, I got the poop out by putting a baggie on my hand and scooping it.  Good times.