It's bath time. Yay! Bath time means bed time is right around the corner!
Put Little M in the tub. As the water starts to collect in the tub and inches closer to him, he shrieks and climbs so that he's got one foot on each side of the top of the tub - he's literally straddling the tub. Evidently, I was putting battery acid, not water, in the tub if judged by his reaction.
He finally gets in the water. I toss Bright Eyes in and she starts happily playing in the sudsy water. I pull out a Huggies disposable wash cloth and give Bright Eyes a good lathering. She rubs her belly to help wash herself. As I lift the washcloth to Little M, he breaks out into near hysteria - screaming, crying, pleading "Nooo noooooo nooOOOooOOoooooo." It doesn't help that Bright Eyes tries to help him wash his belly.
Okay. Bath time trauma is over. Semi-clean children are toweled off. I haul Bright Eyes into her room and am in the process of diapering her when I hear, "CHANGE DIAPER!! CHANGE DIAPER!! CHAAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNGGGGGGGGEEEEEEEEE DIAPER!!!!!!!!!!!"
I turn around just in time to see Little M bent over in a toddler-modified version of Downward Dog and poop just pouring out of his butt. In the same instant, the phone starts to ring on my cell and I ignore it. I toss Bright Eyes into her crib as the house phone starts to ring. I grab the house phone as I run into the bathroom and shout at my brother (caller-id rocks!), "I CAN'T TALK RIGHT NOW! POOOP EMERGENCY. LATER!!!" and throw the phone... somewhere (I still don't know where the phone is.).
I tossed Little M onto the potty chair with the command, "Go poo on the potty chair please." and started trying to clean up.
Thus ended the Great Pooping Spree of August Oh-Seven.