Taking Care of "Business"

It had been that kind of day.
The kind of day that you wish was over and it's not even 4:00 yet.
The kind of day where I made an early supper because I just wanted to be done--done with cooking, done with washing dishes, done with baths, done with bedtime, just.
done.

But it was only 5:30.
So, I did what I always do when I need to check out for awhile.
I purposed to take a bath.

The older children know that they are not to bother Mom in the tub on a day like that unless they are bleeding or on fire.
Ruby,  however, did not.

She knocked on the door.
I wanted to deny her entrance, but knowing that I could end up needing to clean up a puddle if she were not allowed through the door, I granted permission for her to enter.
I pulled the shower curtain shut, she came in and sat down on the little potty seat next to the tub.

I had lit a good-smelling candle, but even it couldn't cover up the "scent" of what she was doing.
Arghhhhhh.
"Ruby, are you done yet?"
"Nope."
"Are you done yet?"
"No."
"Now?"
"Not yet."
Arghhhhhh.
I just wanted a bath, some time to myself, and some reprieve from bad smells.
Obviously, that wasn't going to happen.
Because that is part of my life.
Babies and toddlers and poo.
Grown men and boys and barn clothes and poo.
Little children who never remember to flush the toilet (!!!) and poo.

And so, when my darling little three year old was finished stinking up the whole bathroom minutes after I'd begun my "relaxing" bath, she peeks around the shower curtain and says, ever-so-sweetly, "I'm done now, Mommy, and you take care of the poop, ok?" and out the door she went.

Yes, sweetheart, I'll take care of the poop.
Because that's {part of} my job.