Bath time is T’s favourite time, he freaking loves it. He listens to the sound of his own voice echoing when he yells, and I mean YELLS into the jug. He watches the water drip, drip, drip from the faucet in a trance like state. He splashes so much that by the end of the bath there is more water on me and on the floor than there is in the tub. He licks bubbles. He expertly passes rubber duckies from one hand to the other, sucks on their heads and drops them in the water when he is finished. He has me trained so he only has to look at the next toy he wants and I pass it to him – rinse and repeat. He relaxes, he coos, he laughs. And now… he does something new. He plays with his doodle.
Yes, baby T has found his doodle, and certainly enjoys copping a feel whenever the opportunity arises. I know from my experience with the other doodles in my house, that once they find ’em, they never stop playing with them – ever!
So T first found his pecker a few nights ago. I think it was quite by accident, but he seemed to like it. His eyes sparkled with excitement, while his fingers flicked and squeezed. He grabbed a big handfull as tight as he could and puuuuuulled it up until his sausage, unbeknown to T, slipped through his fingers. He lifted his balled-up fist right up to his face and slowly opened his fingers to see what new treat he had found, but was shocked/surprised/bewildered to see there was nothing there. To quote a line from my 12 year old self’s diary, ‘it was so funny’.
Fun bath thing number two is actually not funny, but it is a number two. Literally. Shit. In the bath.
K never shat in the bath, ever, so the first time T did it I freaked out big time. Wasn’t really a big deal as it was just happy time breastfed baby poo. No biggy. I just washed that shit down the drain and ran T under the tap. All good.
My friends, T is 6.5 months old now, and what happens around the 6 month mark? That’s right. Solids. Solid food = solid poo(d). Just wanted to add that d to make it rhyme.
T lies in one of those bath support thingies with the little wedge in between his legs to stop him from slipping down. Breastfed poos just shot out and swished around the water, but solid poo works in a far different fashion, as I recently found out.
Look at this innocent face –
Now picture that innocent face grunting out a chicken, sweet potato and broccoli poo onto that wedge. No amount of running water will wash that shit off. So here I am, baby under one arm with butt facing out wiping poo that was all squished up in his boy bits off with my fingers. Do you think that washed off with running water? Of course not. I then wipe my poo fingers on the bottom of the bath. Great, now there is poo on the wedge, on the baby, on the bottom of the bath, on my fingers.
I admit defeat. Towel on the floor. Poo bum baby on towel. Poo on towel.
Then comes the fun part washing all the poo off the wedge, my fingers, the bottom of the bath and smodging it down the sink hole. Awesome. Why didn’t I get some toilet paper and wipe that shit up and flush it down the loo, you ask? Well… I guess, in hindsight that may have been a good idea. I guess I like the drama.
On a positive note, my bath was actually cleaner AFTERWARDS than it was before. I suppose I can thank the poo bath episode for that.
Please Little Bear, no more poo baths. Not now, not ever.