Today was a great day. We visited with neighbors in the early afternoon, then went to a birthday party for a pair of sisters. My little guy had such a good time jumping in the bouncy house, playing with their toys, running around with the kids that I could barely get him to slow down to eat some cake.
On top of all that, the weather was beautiful. And, like most New Englanders, I'm constantly obsessed with the weather.
We had so much fun that we didn't realize how close it was to bedtime. Since the little guy didn't have a bath last night, I really wanted him to have one tonight (do you see where this is going?). So I did the heavy lifting in the bath--scrubbing the day's dirt and sweat off, washing his hair--then left my husband in charge so I could fluff the diapers up in the dryer since they were stiff from hanging out in the sun.
Well, I barely got two steps out of the bathroom when hubby calls out to me with panic in his voice. Yes, that's right, this marks our third poop in the tub. We scooped him out and tried to get him to sit on the potty, but he wasn't having it. So hubby wrapped him in in a towel and took him out into the living room while I got rid of the now-ruined toys and sanitized the tub.
As the tub was refilling, hubby sat the little one on the potty, and we smiled and talked to him about pooping on the potty....and sure enough, he did it!
So it seemed like it was going to be a literally crappy end to an otherwise fantastic day, but then we ended with a pretty awesome milestone.