Sure...there are far worse things that can happen in the bathroom.

I confessed back on my first (and only) vlog that a lot of the things I write about occur to me while in the shower each morning. I guess the mundane task of washing has become such a mindless chore that it gives my brain a break from minute-to-minute survival mode required outside and beyond the plastic curtain...

Then again, I'm not as agile and coordinate as I once was either and completely vulnerable in my 'nudified' state while standing on a slippery surface behind the plastic curtain.

Note to self: Might be time for a shower chair.

But where would I put an assistance device designed to promote safety for AARP qualified adults like myself? My bathroom has been overrun by an invasion of bath time toys belonging to the preschooler I affectionately  refer to as The Crazy Tomato. The kid has more toys in MY bathroom than she has in HER bedroom...well...okay...close.

What happened to the good old days of simplicity? When I was growing up, my one and favorite bath time toy was a baking soda powered submarine from a box of cereal. I could play for an hour with my sub, and when I ran out of baking soda (usually within the first 5 minutes), my imagination took over to create an underwater world of adventure.

Was the ability of my generation to conjure up make- believe story lines any greater than it is for kids today? Probably not. I guess it came from necessity...and the fact that toys were a special commodity back then and only received on special occasions.

I know...I have no one to blame but myself for The Crazy Tomato having so much to play with and litter my bathtub floor. But the kid's not lacking in the imagination department ...let me tell you.. She keeps Mrs. Tony C, the teenager and me in stitches with her stories. Just last week she came running into the living room to tell me:

Crazy Tomato (in her slow, sweet draw): Dad. It was cwaaazy.There was tape ev-we-where I tell you...ev-we-where!

Dad (knowing she had gotten in trouble with Mrs. Tony C): In the bedroom?

Crazy T: In mommy and daddy's bedwoom. Your bedwoom back there. That tape was over here and over there. Cwaaazy I tell you. It stuck to me, and I pulled it off, but it stuck to a thing over here and it kept coming off and coming off. Cwaaazy.

Dad: Tell me honey. How did it get everywhere?

Crazy T (bottom lip out): Weeeeeell...I pulled it off, but I pwomise I won't do that no more. No sir.

How do you get mad and stay mad with such jubilant innocents? Oh...that's right. Teenage years balances the equation back out. Sigh  If only they could stay between 3 and 8 years old.

Of course, there was the bath time incident last summer I'd be remiss not to share. It's a story every parent can share in too... the inevitable toddler bath time accident. You know the one...where the little one contributes their own little toy to the bath time party...aka 'floating one'.

That's right. Now we're on the same page. So the Crazy Tomato is just playing and splashing and having a whooptie-do good time when...woopty doo doo! I was lying on the bed watching one of the fourteen thousand different shows about the Nazi's on the History Channel when I heard the blood curling scream of terror. I leaned over to look into the bathroom to see a look of sheer horror on little one's face as she was standing up trying her best to walk on water. Mom was there trying to calm her down when the Crazy Tomato climbs over the side of the bathtub like a Marine dismounting over the side of a landing craft when hitting the beach. By now, I know what is happening. She comes running into the bedroom, still crying and screaming, and just in the nick of time I manage...

Tony C (hand up): STOP!

Crazy Tomato (jumping up and down still screaming in panic): Daaaaddddy! 

Tony C: Don't even think about jumping into this bed with poo water all over you!

Crazy Tomato (collapsing in the floor completely distraught): Daaaaaddddy! I poo'ed in the bathtub! Get it out! Get it out right now! Put it in the toilet!

Tony C: Calm down honey. Let's go back in here and rinse you off.

Crazy T: Noooooooo! I don't want to get back in there! Pleeeeezzze!

Dad (seeing mom has the situation handled in the bathroom): Go look and see. Mommy took care of it pumpkin.

Mom's always make things better... and preschoolers always make things a lot more interesting.  Come to think of it...I'll be pretty sad when the day comes again that all I have to complain about is the chemistry set of feminine hair products in my shower.