There's no 'h' in 'sitting'

Bec's playing hockey tonight. I was quarterbacking bedtime. Quinn was very good, carrying his milk and walking upstairs all by himself. Everything when swimmingly and he got in the bath. Due to past events with gravity and, uh, 'fiber processing', we have instituted a 'no standing' rule in the tub. Tonight I let my guard down and neglected to say anything while he squatted with a train locomotive at the end of the tub. After a minute or so I noticed the 'floaties'. Uh oh. I whipped Quinn out of the tub. Salty The Train, Blue Whale and Theodore Too were removed, destined for the dishwasher. The rest would have to wait til after bedtime.

I got Quinn dried off while we chatted about how poop goes in diapers and potties but not in tubs. He seemed to get it but only time will tell I suppose. Since bathtime was short, we had a long read, which Quinn loves. The whole time I was dreading the cleanup that awaited me. Quinn, perhaps sensing the situation, went down like a dream. The cleanup went not too bad either, although I must say I noted that my guck-tolerance has increased a lot in the last two years.

It's only the third time that's happened in two years so I guess we're fortunate, although it took a little time before I was able to even consider that phrase tonight. We haven't started full-blown potty training but we're starting to think about it and lay some groundwork, so maybe this will be useful in the long run. Until then, only 'sitting' in the tub.