sunday was kind of a difficult day at the forston house. i don’t know why exactly…nothing particularly awful happened, it was just one of those days when you wish you would have stayed in bed. by sunday night i was tired and grumpy and just wanted to relax in the bathtub for a little while. i knew that the only way that was going to happen was if i let leslie get in with me. she loves the big bathtub and screams bloody murder if you try to bathe without her. so, into the tub we went. about halfway through our bath, michael came in to ask me something. “oh no,” he said, “no, no, no.” and i knew. without him even having to say the words, i knew. leslie had pooped. in the tub. with me in it. i started screaming, leslie said, “sorry, mommy…it’s disgusting.” disgusting didn’t even come close to describing it. i scooped her up (poop and all) and ran down to the basement to take a shower and wash the poo off. but guess what? since we had filled the bathtub up with approximately 14,000 gallons of water…our shower was COLD. great.
“sorry i pooped on you, mommy.”