So tonight, while taking her ritual Sunday night bath, Vivi managed to make a very large poo. In the tub. Titanic-sized panic ensued. She laughed her head off, while Russ and I tired to simultaneously a) get her out of the tub, b) wrangle "the offender", c) empty the tub, and d) re-wash Madame Poo-Water.
Is this what it means to be a parent?
In honor of our watery trauma, I am posting some lovely photos of Vivi swimming in the hotel pool from our trip last week (a feces-free incident, by the way).
So happy to swim with Dad!
And chillin' with Grandma Otto...
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