The girls think it's REALLY funny to toot in the bathtub. There's just something about the unexpected bubbling from below that they love. So when it happens, they giggle. And giggle. And then they toot again, and giggle some more. By this point, I admit, I'm also giggling. What?! It's cute. And adorably stinky and disgusting at the same time (Sorry Mom, I know this blog topic is completely inappropriate).
Anyways, the problem is that Lydia has figured out the "funny" factor and tries to capitalize on it. Toot on accident. Then followup with multiple toots on purpose.
Funny for a while, until something other than the harmless (though potent) gases creep out. You guessed it.... That is exactly what happened two nights ago. And as both naked girls abandoned the tub like it was a sinking ship, I was left wondering, "What exactly am I supposed to do with this mess?" So I yelled for Tim.
I am very capable of handling situations like this myself, but why hog such a great parenting moment for myself? That would be nothing but selfish.
I thought about getting angry with Lydia, possibly even throwing a little discipline down (particularly effective on bare bums), but then decided the natural consequences should follow. While I slowly drained the tub (apparently we need some draino) and then drenched it in bleach, both girls stood by with soap suds running from their heads to their toes, shivering and watching. Lesson learned: we do not force-toot in the bathtub.
And so continues the saga of mothering.
