But for the sake of memories, I must blog that you have thrice pooped in the bathtub. The first time, I was taking a bath with you. It was not solid. There were lots of toys that were almost thrown away instead of cleaned. It was weeks before I could take a bath in that tub again.
Th second time, Oma was visiting. We were both sitting next to the tub and you smiled and pooped all over the place. I was very proud of my quick response and how I didn't freak out and got everything ship shape very quickly while my mom was watching. It felt like, "See? I really am a Mommy and can handle this parenting gig just fine."
The third time you were potty training and the rule was that you had to potty before getting in the tub. You were not hip to the pottying lifestyle, so your rebellious streak inspired you to peepee in the potty chair then hop in the tub,where you promptly pooped. Thanks, kid.
Once again, I think that you really can't help it. i, too, have pooped in the tub. My mom used to make me and Trey (I can hear her voice right now saying, "Trey and me") take a bath together. Trey, being the obnoxious twit that he was/is/will evermore be took great delight in telling me that he peed in the bathtub. I never could tell if he was lying or not and it completely grossed me out. He would usually wait to tell me this until after I'd submerged my head in the water in order to wash my hair.
Reciprocating the act by telling him I'd peed in the tub had no ill-effect. Fed up, I let a floater loose in the tub one day when he wasn't looking. Then gently swished the water to drift it over to him. He didn't notice until it was bumping up against him.
He jumped out, screaming for dad. I was scarred for life because dad made me pick it up WITH MY BARE HANDS and transport it to the toilet.
But it was effective: if Trey ever again peed in the bathtub, he never told me about it.