Ever wander into your own bathroom to have a nice private pee and see this?
Disconcerting, to say the least. When I tried to move him, Mitchell ran in yelling, “Wait wait! Penguin going poop! So NICE, Penguin!” I mean, I appreciate the warning. I clean up lots of poop around here, but I’m content not having to clean up penguin poop. But still, really? So, of the three bathrooms in the house, two are Mitchell’s and now one is Penguin’s.
Oh, and don’t worry. Penguin’s butt didn’t touch the water. Mitchell was sure to get the potty seat for him. Sure, he wore it upstairs like a hat, but that’s what baths are for. He knew better than to let Penguin touch the water because he recently got in trouble for discovering this new way to touch the water. It’s troubling that I have to be specific when I tell him which body parts can’t touch toilet water. You’d think a blanket NO BODY PARTS IN THE TOILET WATER would do it, but no. Every once in a while I hear giggling from the bathroom and know that he’s got yet another body part in the water. Butt, check. Hands, check. Elbow, check. I even caught him with his head almost in the bowl once. Your day can only get better when you hear giggling and find your child with his head in the toilet. Why, child? Why.