#142 In which our hero discusses his evening.

The thing is, I had stuff to do.

This is Wednesday evening I’m talking about, of course. Because I have practice on Wednesday evenings. ANY other day of the week, it wouldn’t have mattered. But on Wednesdays, I have stuff to do.

So I come home after work and find The Scientist laid out on the couch. When I ask what’s wrong, she tells me she has a migraine.

Now, just let me say that I know what I should have said. I fully understand that one of the guiding principles in relationships is “don’t be a dick.” I should have said, “Oh no, can I get you a wet towel?” or “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. Let me rub your feet.” But if The Scientist couldn’t move -- let alone mind the girls -- then that screwed up my entire evening. And, as previously mentioned, I had stuff to do.

So what I did say, was, “Since when do you get migraines?”

She reminded me that this happened before when she was pregnant with Lily (of which I have no memory, but I believe her). I sent her off to bed, called my friend (who I had things to do with) and told him I was in for the evening, and got down to playing with the girls.

Not that playing with my girls is a bad thing. I enjoy it. That is, except when Macey is teething. And Lily is whiny. And I’m trying to shovel some dinner down their gullets, and all Lily can scream is, “I want marshmallows!”

It was a little challenging. So when Lily said she wanted to get into the tub, I thought it would be a great diversion, and an easy way to get them to wind down and go to bed.

And, for a time, all was well. Both girls got washed, Macey splashed like crazy and got water everywhere, Lily played with her ducks. I was just finishing drying off Macey and getting her into her diaper when Lily said the two dreaded words that can make even the most stalwart parent tremble in fear when their kid is in the tub:

“I pooped.”

Now, Lily plays this game in which she fills up her rubber duck with water, and while squeezing it out she says, “The duck is peeing!” For the briefest of moments, I thought -- nay, I prayed -- that this was part of the game.

ME: Lily, did you poop, or did the duck poop?
LILY: I pooped.
ME: Really?
LILY: Yeah.
ME: (looking in the tub) GODDAMMIT!

I know, I know, I shouldn’t swear in front of my kids, but the thing is that this exact same thing just happened during Monday’s bath. Lily pooped, then I had to take out all her toys, wash them off, clean up the poop from the tub, then give everything a good bleaching… and now I was going to have to do it all again.

I was not pleased.

This even woke the dead (that is to say, my wife) and she stumbled out into the hall to see if she could do anything. Which, of course, she could not. So I sent her back to bed, got everyone clean, dry and dressed; fed snacks all around and got everyone to bed.

Turns out I was right -- I did have stuff to do. I just hadn’t realized that that stuff included a midnight scrubbing of the tub.