An unfortunate series of events

Bath time in our house is a time of great excitement. Get Samson anywhere near the bathroom at the end of the day and he starts crying out "bath, bath" with a look of pure joy on his little face.

I give all credit to the swimming classes that Vicki and Samson have taken, because he is not only unafraid to have water on his face, but he actively seeks out putting his face in the water to blow bubbles. Lately, he's been lying down on his belly in the tub and kicking his legs like Miss Annie has shown them in class.

He loves splashing around and particularly enjoys knocking the various shampoo bottles lined up on the tub perimeter into the bath/onto the floor. All of which is to say that young Samson is pretty relaxed in the tub. It is also to say that I was not immediately able to put things together in my mind last night when he made a face I knew I recognized. A nanosecond later, there was poo in the tub.

Luckily, we were at the end of the bath, and so I scooped him up deftly and handed him to Vicki --- who by this point had sprinted into the bathroom after hearing my cries of alarm.

As I was handing him over to his mother and a waiting, warm towel, I pulled the bath plug. In retrospect, not a good idea --- poo moves fast, and I only managed to get two of the three bath time interlopers.

Yes, by hand. And yes, Vicki was completely grossed out, but as the tub was draining (my fault), I was not about to begin casting about for suggestions on what we could use to "skim" the tub. Monday-morning quarterback this all you want, but in the absense of a Zapruder film, I'm sticking by my actions.

[Sidenote: in high school, we had a chemistry sub who had been in the Peace Corps in Africa. How she went from that meaningful task to teaching a bunch of snot-nosed suburban kids on a part-time basis, I never found out. She was a somewhat regular sub in the school, however, and word got around from a biology class that during her time in Mozambique (or Malawi, I can't remember and probably couldn't have found either on a map at age 15) she had attended a birth that occurred far more rapidly than anticipated. Long story short, there was nothing with which to cut the mother's umbilical cord, and in a bid to preserve the health of mother and child, she bit through it. Gripping stuff, and I think now of what brilliant instincts this woman had to simply jump in and do what needed to be done. This was not, however, what we thought in Mr. Kohler's 3rd period chem class, and I can remember asking if she had really done something so gross. To which she responded, putting me (rightly) in my place: "what would you have done? Let the baby die?" Suitably chastened, I'm sure I mumbled something exculpatory and then spent the rest of class concentrating on balancing chemical equations.]

All of which is to say, I too did what needed to be done. However, my actions were neither heroic, nor (sadly) completely effective.

And yes, they were gross. Also, we now need to go buy a plumber's snake because the tub is not draining properly.

So there you have it. Poo in tub: 1 Dada: 0.