The other night, as I filled the tub with warm water for Tye's bath, she was so excited she kept trying to climb in over the edge. She peeled her clothes off with enthusiasm and I as I lifted her into the warm bath, I had a fleeting thought of I didn't offer the potty first- but she'll be fine. She splashed in the water as the tub filled, then stood up suddenly- as poop came flying out of her bottom. She looked at me with wide eyes, and I could tell she wasn't finished, so I pulled her out of the tub and she finished pooping in the potty. After I cleaned out the tub, we opted for a shower to finish up our evening.
I remember one bath with my brother when we were young, I picked up a brown object in the water as it floated by and asked my mom, "What's this?" I had a student several years ago whose mom would put him in a warm bath when he was constipated, and it worked every time. There's something about baths that makes kids go. It's universal. So when it happened to us the other night, I barely blinked an eye.
In fact, the whole episode felt a little like I was being welcomed to mothering a toddler. It reminded me of training for a marathon several years ago, when my toenails turned black and finally fell off- like I was a real runner. Now, I finally have a poop-in-the-tub story in which I was on the outside of the tub. I'm just glad I actually was on the outside, because I had seriously considered bathing with Tye that night.