At first I thought I'd left the soap in the bath.
When I was little my Nanna showed us how to blow giant bubbles using Imperial Leather soap and our bare hands. I've shown the girls how to do it and naturally they are fascinated. So much so that I have to keep an eye on the soap otherwise one bar will disappear in a single bathtime and they will be sitting in a milky puddle going 'what?'
Now that the girls are older I no longer have to hover like a hawk during their bath, instead I just pop in to mediate disputes and administer the shampoo. I'm never too far away of course, always keeping a ready ear out for when the laughing turns to screaming, when the floor splashing turns to a deluge, or when sisterly affection naturally turns into the infliction of pain.
I checked in on them, even though there were no signs of distress. There was the constant stream of princess role-play monologue from Anna, with occasional shouts of annoyance directed at Lucy - so I knew they were both alive. In fact, they were playing happily - the only disconcerting thing was the soup-like consistency of the water.
I asked Anna if she'd left the soap in the bath.
I asked if she'd been using the bath crayons.
"Nope" she said, "but I think Lucy might have pooped"
Turns out that is exactly what had happened - and yet there they both were, completely unfazed.
Obviously the bath rapidly became a shower in the other bathroom while I hazmated the scene like something out of Sunshine Cleaning.
I won't be taking any relaxing soaks in there for a while.
This never happened with Anna, but then again she was always a morning pooper. Like clockwork I would get her ready in the morning, drive her over to the nanny-sharing house and bingo, she would take a massive crap en route meaning I always delivered a lot more than my child at drop-off. That didn't exactly make either of us popular.
Lucy on the other hand is a night-time pooper. Her daycare people think she's constipated, her nighttime babysitters think she's the devil incarnate as she unfailingly unloads right before bedtime. Usually right after you've wrestled her in to her footed pyjamas.
We were talking about this recently, and Anna must have overheard - because when my parents were visiting at Christmas she said, quite out of the blue "I am a morning pooper, Lucy is a nighttime pooper, but Dada is a morning pooper and a nightime farter".
Children are such a blessing.