It happened again tonight. This is the fourth or fifth time that I’ve had to experience this and it’s the fourth or fifth time too many.

Big A and Little A take a bath together. They love playing with their whales and sharks, Diego and his submarine, with a Thomas the Tank Engine or two thrown into the mix along with a few boats. Tonight, Little A decided to add something else. But it wasn’t something that either wanted to stay and play around with (thank Heaven!).

The previous times were all thanks to Big A, but he’s outgrown that (again, thank Heaven) and now I guess we get to enjoy the next few months of potty training with Little A.

There are a couple of problems with the situation. Number 1, although I was in the kids’ play room repairing a door (don’t ask…we’ll save that for later) and The Doc was supervising bathtime, I was the one who had to clean up the mess. Big A came running in to get me, streaking naked and dripping poo-water-wet all through the house to let me know that Daddy needed help. Cleaning up a bathtub full of floating poo bits is not my idea of an enjoyable evening. There isn’t enough bleach to make that task feel clean. I mean really, really clean.

The Doc took the wee beasts to our bathroom to shower them off while I got down to the business at hand. Or bottom. Whatever. First was to drain the bath and get as much of the “leftovers” out with toilet paper. Okay, done. Next was a new round of hot water and about a gallon of bleach. I let all of the toys swim around in that for a while, letting the bleach work some of its magic. Then a good scrub of everything, draining, rinsing again, and another round of hot water and bleach.

I don’t care how many times this happens to you as a parent (and yes, I’m absolutely certain that every parent shares this experience), you just can’t be mentally prepared to deal with a tub o’ poo. You just can’t. Ok, the worst experience — and one that I hope ALL parents don’t experience — is being IN THE BATH with the kidlet when he or she poos. Yep. Been there, done that. But that’s not for today.

Problem Number 2 (HA. Yes, I said it. Number 2.) is that I really like baths. Not showers. Baths. And we only have a shower in our bathroom, so by default, the wee beasts’ bathtub is also my bathtub. Again, there isn’t enough bleach on the planet to make it feel clean enough to sink down into after one of these nights. I’m scarred. I have mental images I don’t want to have. And it will take a few days and several more scrub downs before I’ll be able to take a bath without feeling like I’m an ingredient in a big batch of fecal stew.

And on that pleasant note, I think I’ll head back down the hall with my trusty bottle of Clorox…