"Poooop?" he declared.
I groaned, hand on the shampoo bottle. We were more than halfway done with his bath, and I had *just* gotten him to finally sit/squat in the Tummy Tub so I could safely do his hair, which was the reason he was getting an impromptu post-dinner pre-bedtime bath in the first place.
"Argh. Please tell me you're not going to poop."
"No poop!" he exclaimed, gleefully.
But what about those rather worrying grunts??
"You sure?"
"No poop!" he repeated.
Then up pops a turd (or four) in the tub. (There were non-floaters too. Ugh.)
Sigh.
Silver lining: he *did* tell me before it happened. I guess potty training can start anytime.
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about two months later...
... hi again. This return to blogging is really not working out, is it? Actually, I am writing, three pages of mind vomit and affirmations ...
Welcome to hell, my friend! Been there. done that. We laugh about that stuff now. :)
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