You know, they say that payback’s a bitch and they ain’t never lied. As retributive justice for my poop pitching, Co-dizzle let forth a storm of shit to end all shits this evening.

I thought I had learned my lesson the last time she decided to clean her system. She and Mo were in the tub, everyone was getting washed up and then the water turned murky. Lovely. You go through these mental gymnastics over what to do first. Drain the tub? Get them out? Wash them up? Wash the tub? Scoop the poop? In that instances, I pulled them out, drained the tub, jumped in my shower with them, got them fresh, dressed and smelling like a million bucks before I attended to the crap-fest in my tub.

I told a girlfriend about that debacle and she said her husband has decided to bathe their babe with the pamper on as a result of having had one too many pairs of pants peed and pooped on en route to the tub. In one particular memorable incident, said babe peed on said dad while he had his retainer in his pocket. Nice.

So, the last few times I’ve bathed Mo and Co, I’ve left Co’s diaper on. Those Pampers are way absorbent. I put her in and all the water just got sucked up into the diaper. Today, same thing, but the diaper was hanging just a little too low. I unfasten on side of the diaper in order to wash her parts and to my astonishment, there was like five days worth of shit and a liter of Mr. Bubble Bath water in that diaper. Which proceed to gush and goosh down my arm as Co-dizzle began to dance a jig. Wonderful.

Yep, what goes around truly, truly, comes around.