A couple random photos from this week: Zane exploring while holding a trailer pin and typical dinner with Dad and a string cheese sculpture.

The rest of today’s entry you might want to skip if you have a weak constitution, are eating breakfast, or are still fooling yourself that Zane’s dad is pretty smart.

First off I should remind everyone that Zane is very sound oriented. He mimics sounds quite well and the two of us are always making funny sound effects. I will often introduce new things by using a sound effect, easing him into trying or learning it that way. Thus the creation of “poop … splash!” our new shorthand for talking about going to the bathroom on the toilet that I came up with on vacation. Once or twice a day he’d sit on the toilet and we’d say that, laughing all the while. We just haven’t had much opportunity to try it out since then.

Last night, after a particularly sodden diaper, it was late and I decided to give him a before-bed bath (he’s at 25lbs by the way!). We’re having a grand ol’ time, me scrubbing his hair and rinsing it off, he playing with his cups. At one point I noticed a nice, big splash sound when dumping a scoop of water.

“Poop …” I said, foolishly. Splash went the water.

Zane laughed, I did it again and then realized that this wasn’t the right context for learning.

“Zane, poop-splash is only for the toilet, right?” I reminded him. “Only poop in the toilet.”

“Pooplash.” he said, grinning.

So we go back to playing, me chiding myself for being such a dummy. We’re about done with the tub, me rinsing him off some more, when he repeated “Pooplash” and let go with the real thing.

I think this is the first time he’s ever done that in the tub and of course it’s all my fault. I instantly whipped him out of the tub and started draining it, while he repeated a few more “Pooplash” just to rub it in. Of course the tub picked this time for the drain to get stuck, leaving me struggling madly to get it out before the really messy part of the bathwater got there. I grabbed some toilet paper to pluck out the larger chunks, transferring them to the toilet where Zane gave them a couple more rounds of “Pooplash” as he flushed them away. Finally I got the drain out, fired up the shower nozzle and set about cleaning the tub. Then back to cleaning Zane and getting him ready for bed.

I’d like to end this sad story with a bit of intelligent insight or retrospective but, as you can probably tell, I’m all out.