The Bombshell and the Mop ran breathlessly into the kitchen where I was clearing up the remains of dinner. They were both completely nude.
‘The baby pooped in the shower,’ the Bombshell squealed.
‘Yeah, she did a poo right on the floor,’ added the Mop.
They both looked very excited and were jumping up and down.
‘Why are you telling me?’ I asked them as I wiped the bench.
‘Because Dad told us to,’ said one.
‘And it’s really smelly,’ added the other.
‘We don’t want a shower anymore, we want a bath,’ they said.
I followed them into the bathroom where my husband was shoving reams of toilet paper into the loo. Baldy stood in the shower forlornly, looking at the floor.
‘Did you have an accident in the shower?’ I asked her.
‘Poo,’ she said rubbing her face.
‘Don’t rub your face,’ my husband said grabbing at her hand and squirting soap on it. He threw the bathmat at me. ‘Put this in the wash, will you?’ he asked.
‘Does it have poop on it?’ I asked, holding it away from my body slightly. He nodded.
‘How?’ I asked.
‘She picked the poo up and threw it out of the shower,’ he said matter of factly.
The last thing I heard as I wandered into the laundry was my husband yelling at the older kids to get in the shower.
‘Neverrrrrrr,’ they declared, then footsteps bolting for their bedroom and a door slamming.
Can’t say I blame them.