Tonight was one of those nights. We walked the neighborhood. We laughed. We made music with the kitchen pitchers and ran around with the fly swatters (T's new favorite toys). We played. We pointed out the socks on our feet and the hair on our heads. We forward-rolled.
Then T pooped.
Yea, I know. Gross, but no biggie. But hey, he's gotta get clean before bath time because I really didn't feel like Cloroxing the tub tonight. Nevermind, it was a biggie. First off, it kept T from his beloved bathtime for several extra minutes. Quelle horreur! Picture a toddler attempting to catapult himself into the tub when realizing that his momma was trying to take him away from it. Now picture the toddler screaming bloody murder as his momma leads him away from the tub to get rid of said poop. Now picture T doing anything BUT staying still while momma attempts pre-bath clean. Now picture momma wearing said poop when T refuses to cooperate. Ok, so I give up. Toddler tantrum wins - time for the bath. Only now, it's too late. Someone doesn't want to be in the bath anymore -- that window of opportunity shut when momma kept him from diving headfirst into the tub. End-of-the-world scream, cry, and attempt to throw toddler-self out of same tub that he was trying to climb into minutes before. Where is The Happiest Toddler on the Block's advice on this?!
So, a perfect mommy-son evening ended with a big ole "Thank God it's Finally Bedtime" sigh.
Mommy fix for the bathtime blues? Post-T's bedtime, lying on the couch watching the DVR of The Bachelor (yes, I still watch this show. I miss a season here and there, but I've embarrassingly been hooked since the days of Alex and Trista), with my Reese's Minis (heaven in an orange bag) and some vino. And all is right in the world again.