I live life on the edge, that's why from time to time I dare bathe with a known tub-crapper. In our home we call these fecal situations, a "code brown." It resembles a military drill that both Brian and I train for by running laps, scaling walls, and skipping through old tires. For the last six months, we've had no floaters, so I thought it was safe to go back in the water.
I love tubbing with my daughter. We brim the water with bubbles and toys, splashing until all the suds have dissipated and our fingers resemble Andy Rooney. She also uses the scrubber on my back, which zonks me out in seconds. That's why we have children, not for the memories, or possibly a home when we start shitting ourselves, but because we can dupe them into scratching our backs for next to nothing. My father had me scratching his back and cleaning out his ears for a dollar. That's right, you read it…CLEAN OUT HIS EARS. This explains my extensive therapy … that and bathing with my mom.
Tonight's tub was like any other. We filled up squirt toys, shooting water in each other's faces. I hadn't noticed that Brian put three weather-worn frogs into Scarlett's bath-toy basket. These frogs had spent the last year in our backyard after being abandoned when I cleaned out Scarlett's pool. I thought they ended up in the trash. Wrong.
A wild frog found its place between Scarlett's tiny fists. She was using every once of strength to fill it with water, then held it inches from my face and squeeeeezed.
That's when I felt something solid hit below my eye. There, floating in the bubbles … a worm. Or at least, it sorta looked like one. If a slimy worm floating near my naked bits isn't heave-worthy enough for you, it secreted some brown substance from its supposed anus.
I had Scarlett out of the water in a split second, screaming for Brian. I can handle snakes, spiders, and code browns, but a worm-thingy that poops in my bath water, I can't handle. My hero husband pulled the plug on the bath while I inspected Scarlett for tapeworm. Brian then threw out our garden frogs. I found myself grateful for all the poop drills; it prepared me for a worm's code brown. I'm sure Scarlett would have no problem swimming in worm poop, much like her own.
P.S. NEVER Google "worm" ... it will keep you up at night.
