“Gimme a cup, I need a cup. Not a towel; I need a cup!”
So my husband hollered from the hotel room bathroom last night. I was on the phone ordering Thai food, which often leads to a bit of chat with the restaurant owner about people we might know in common. (This is one of the ways that Thai culture parallels the Irish experience.
While I talked about musicians in Suphanburi that I admire, Matt was bathing our son. And little son did it. For the first time, Nigel pooped in the tub.
Immediately, Matt lifted baby out of bathwater. Holding Nigel, he scooped and then drained/swished out the tub. He rinsed off our son. And then refilled with fresh water.
All this before I had a chance to request brown rice.
I am grateful for my competent partner. I am grateful that we have both celebrated and empowered each other to be in command of the contant new challenges of baby-rearing, even though neither of us has ever done this before.
And I am grateful that this p.i.t (poop in tub) incident happened on Matt’s watch!
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Nigel will be pleased to know someday that this event was not just recorded in a baby book but in a baby blog on the internet. Oh the joys and laughable moments of parenthood!
Nearly two years later, my husband asks me (as he takes over as the ON parent) if Nigel has pooped on my watch. Nigel interjects: “Mom, I did NOT poop on dad's watch! That would make a big mess…”