I could hear her pouting from across the room. “Hrmph!” My seven-year-old crossed her arms and made mad sighing noises. “But you usually let me get in the tub with Grace,” she whined.
I knelt, scrubbing my 22-month-old, listening to my daughter, Faith, list all the reasons why I wasn’t being fair. She desperately wanted to take a bath with the baby. As I stood to dry my hands, Faith swooped into my spot, leaning over the edge of the tub to play with her sister. I turned to fold the towels at the end of my bed in sight of the girls.
I listened to the sweet chatter that only a one and seven-year-old could have until I heard the gasp.
“Mommy!” Faith called me in horror, “There’s POOP in the tub!”
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