So here it is

***WARNING. THERE IS A PRETTY GROSS PICTURE AT THE END OF THIS POST. I'M JUST LETTING YOU KNOW NOW.***

I finally had the moment you've all been waiting for. That singular, shining achievement in a young girl's life that she'll always look back on and smile.

But let me back up a few moments.

Dad and I got home and mom had dinner waiting for us and she hasn't been feeling all that great lately so it was up to dad to give my bath, brush my teeth and all the rest of the bathroom part of our night time routine. Now, since mom's stopped traveling she's been doing this most nights so it took me a minute to get back into the swing of how dad does things but it went fine and we were having a good time in the tub. He even let me draw on the walls with these crazy washable crayons.

Where things went wrong, however, was when it was time to get out of the tub and dad washed the drawings off the sides of the tub.

Big mistake, dad.

I wanted to do that. I really, really, really wanted to do that and now that dad had done it (meaning I couldn't do it) I was pretty mad. And I let him know. I started crying and kicking and carrying on and complaining over and over how I wanted to wash the walls but dad didn't do anything except keep asking me,

"Do you want to be rinsed with the cup or the shower? Which one? You choose."

It was infuriating. I was still caught up in the fact that I wasn't able to wash the drawings off the tub walls so I wasn't about to make a decision between the cup and the shower but he kept asking me,

"Do you want to be rinsed with the cup or the shower? Which one? You choose."

I eventually shut down and turned my back to him and refused to even acknowledge that he was there. And he eventually gave me my final warning adding,

"If you don't choose, dad will choose."

I just sat there and grunted. So dad chose shower. And I hate shower.

All the screaming and crying started all over as dad hosed me down with the shower nozzle and when he was done he lifted me out and dried me off but I was just beside myself that I wasn't being rinsed off with the cup and after dad had dried my hair he sat me on the little step and told me that we were going to sit there until I calmed down and he sat on the other little step but I kept right on crying.

Then I felt something deep within me. Something moving. Something brown.

I half stood up off the little step and looked at dad through my tears and he must have smelt it because he picked me up and put me right on the toilet where I

POOPED!

It was amazing. It was in the toilet. Dad ran into the other room and got mom and she came out and they were so happy for me that I forgot why I was so pissed off in the first place. I tried to remember just so I could get back to crying but mom and dad kept telling me what a great job I'd done that eventually being happy seemed like a better deal than crying.

I'm pretty proud of myself. I can't wait to tell my teachers tomorrow. My plan is to keep putting my poops in the toilet but we'll see how that goes.

In case you were wondering, here's what it looked like. It's gone now but I love it just the same:




And that's the story of that.