Return of the Daddy

*Editor's Note: The original working title of this entry was "Revenge of the Daddy." Shortly before this entry's release, however, I didn't feel that "revenge" should be used, since it is not a true Daddy concept. A true Daddy wouldn't seek revenge on anyone, let alone his children.

It happened again.

"One of your children pooped in the bathtub?"

No. Actually, that is not what I am talking about. Besides, it wasn't IN the bathtub. It was on the side of the bathtub and on the floor next to it.

Every year, the week following graduation at Brigham Young University, the campus hosts billions of women for Women's Conference. For the past couple of years, I have been bamboozled into taking time off work for 3 days to stay home with the kids while Nicki goes up there for yet another respite from, well, us.

You may recall my experience from last year. And truthfully, that experience was more about survival than anything else. And I don't mean MY survival. We are lucky the children made it.

A lot has happened in the 12 months since. And this time I was able to enjoy it a little bit more. No, really. Get off the floor and stop laughing. The most difficult part, I think, has been adjusting my seats and mirrors back to where I had them in my car after she got home. Four days later and it still doesn't feel right.

Not that anything was different from last year. I took one step into the door from the garage and, "Dad, can I have a piece of candy?"

"No."

"Then, can I play the XBox?"

"No."

"Can I solve world hunger and cure cancer?"

"No."

"Is Mom going to be home soon?"

"Not as soon as either you or me would like."

I was able to help them remember that she would be home on Sunday morning. Through gentle, loving talk at high decibels.

The above-mentioned bathtub incident happened that first Wednesday night. What I don't understand is that they do not do this to Nicki. Human waste seems to only end up in (or around) the bathtub when I am on duty. And yes, I am fully aware that I just used the word duty.

I was nearly finished with washing them, when I went to the other side of the tub to find, well, you know. I don't know why I asked. Obviously, the guilty child was "Not Me." I didn't need the boys to tell me that.

Then Jonny dimed out Mikey. He seemed the perfect culprit to me. He's been waffling between being potty trained and wearing diapers.

He was scolded and sent to his room for it. Jonny was the last one to get out.

Something inside me told me that I made a mistake. "Jonny, why did you poop on the floor?" If you have ever had to ask a child that question, you might be laughing at the sight of it in writing. I am. Even if you haven't, I give you permission to. It's a ridiculous question!

"I didn't," came the reply in his "I'm Lying to You" face.

"Yes, you did. Why?"

Then the admission. Boy, did he get it. No, I didn't beat him senseless. I'm not saying I didn't think about it. After all, he knew what he had done was wrong. And I'm not talking about the fecal matter. Although that was certainly part of it.

So what was his consequence for dropping the, uh, droppings? As I got him dressed, I told him to get me a diaper. I should have recorded the response. Classic. Yes, I made him wear a diaper to bed.

Later that night, as I tucked him into bed, Jonny asked, "Is tomorrow Sunday?"

Funny, that's exactly what I was thinking.

Now Don't Start That Again

It would stand to reason that I would do a blog entry about New Year's Resolutions. If I did, I could borrow one I heard that is almost sure to be attained by the majority of people - gain weight this year. Yes, I could do a blog about that.

Ah, but no, I have to return to bath time. At this point, you are thinking, why is he doing another piece about peeing? I can assure you, this has absolutely nothing to do with pee. So, sit back, relax and read on.

See, I was taking my turn to bathe the boys. After all, it had been several weeks and with Nicki's hand being wrapped and bandaged from her recent surgery, I felt it was only right that I do my small part to help.

As per the required order of exiting the tub (determined in part due to the prior recorded tub incident), Josh was out first and I was helping him get lotioned and dressed.

Then Jonny exclaimed something. I wasn't really certain I heard what he said. Well, that's not quite acurate. Truthfully, I was just afraid that I had heard Jonny correctly. And then Mikey started crying.

I turned around and returned to the tub to find Jonny and Mikey on their tiptoes in the bathtub and looking down with horror on their faces (and perhaps some worry about what my response would be)...

at what appeared to be large, bloated Hershey's Kisses floating in the tub. Since I was pretty certain the nearest bag of chocolate was downstairs in the pantry, obviously, they weren't Hershey's Kisses and I HAD heard Jonny correctly.

I suppose it was the fresh pine scent of the freshly cleaned bathtub that led Mikey to believe this would be okay. He had sat on the toilet just before getting in the tub. What other explanation can there be? Yet there is something that baffles me. Riddle me this:

The bathub is about 2 feet deep. Mikey is about 30 inches tall. How did a nugget end up on the top of the tub surround, with a brown streak over the lip of the tub? We may never know.

I told you this had nothing to do with pee.

It's All About Pee

At some point, I would imagine that anyone like me will eventually do a blog about it. So I might as well get it out of the way. I promise it will be the first, last and only one, though. Um...okay, don't hold me to that. We're not counting the Malibu excursion, right?

You may recall that we bathe the 3 youngest boys together. Usually, Jonny likes to sit at the helm, Mike astern and Josh in the middle. Josh routinely likes to stand up to reach at different toys, or just to pester one of the other brothers. I had turned to wash Mike's hair, when Josh stood and released the contents of his bladder all over Jonny.

Then he laughed and laughed. (Josh, not Jonny.)

If you take a step back, and if you're not the one being urinated upon, then I think there will be a part of you that probably thinks it is pretty funny, too. At this moment, I am having a good chuckle myself, I will admit. However, that night I was not amused. Nay, not in the least. So I lifted them all out of the tub so I could drain, rinse and refill.

Fast forward to last night.

I was already just a little bit upset about the dog feces that had been tracked into the house on little shoes as the boys came inside for bath time. This night, I got Mike out first. I dried him off, got him dressed and prepared the Mikey Burrito, then turned back to the bath to finish the other two.

The Mikey Burrito

I was fairly certain the water had not been yellow when I got Mike out. Yet, there was a distinct yellow tint now. This time, Josh was not the culprit. Apparently, Jonny thought he was in a swimming pool at a water park, rather than a bathtub.

"Why did you pee in the bath, Jonny?"

"I didn't."

The lesson for Family Home Evening the night before was about lying. Or, rather, NOT lying.

"Jonny, did you pee in the bathtub?"

"No, I didn't!"

Josh - "Jonny, just tell the truth. It will be easier!"

(Questionable Parenting Tactic to Follow) So, I let him enjoy it while I had Josh stand up, get rinsed off and washed. Then lifted him up to wash off his feet. I had no bananas to give him, but he seemed okay. I left Jonny sitting in his Urine Spa while I helped Josh get dressed, etc., and sent him off to his bed to read books (part of the Nightly Routine).

No, I didn't actually wash Jonny in his own pee. I thought about it. But that would probably be less than questionable, right? Drain, rinse and refill.

While I would hope this is the last time such a thing will happen, I resign myself to the reality that it probably is not. After all, when was the last time you were in the shower and...