Ruthie you really take us for fools, don’t you. But I’m on to you, little girl.

You slept in grandma’s arms all sweet and cuddly-like that night. Never a whimper, just a little smile here or there as you dreamt of your plan. You even had grandpa fooled into taking a nap. Though I bet he sensed the impending eruption of Mount Ruthsuvius and was only pretending.

Because before long, you “woke up”, if you were even sleeping in the first place. You knew what you were doing, because beneath those cries was maniacal laughter. “These fools will never know what hit them,” you thought.

To be honest, we should have seen the signs of this volcanic explosion. Maybe the fact that you hadn’t gone #2 in several days should have alerted us. But no, we stayed in our homes at the base of your mountain, blissfully sipping hot cocoa in front of the fire. Mount Ruthsuvius would not blow today of all days.

Then we had an earthquake, which caused some alarm. Not enough, though, because we continued chit-chatting as if we had all the time in the world. Following the earthquake were the aftershocks that only the person holding you felt. We laughed and congratulated you on expelling that gassiness. We had no idea.

You waited. Oh yes. You bided your time for, of course, the moment I started nursing you.

And as I sat talking with my mom about how laundry is caught up, how I just changed you, how I’m really glad we haven’t had a blowout for a while… out the mustard magma came.

Slowly.

So slowly that I didn’t notice that it got onto my hands.

But then I did notice, screamed and immediately yelled for the camera. Because that’s what you do in dangerous and scary situations, Ruth. Forget running for safety (that didn’t even help Pompeii), let me get a shot of that lava.

As we laid you on the changing table to wipe you down, that’s when I noticed the laughter and the “I got you, fools” look.

You were so smug about your joke. You laughed and smiled as your master plan unfolded in front of your very eyes.

It was funny, wasn’t it, hearing me scream and run around, then wiping you down from chest to toe. It was hilarious, right, when you heard your dad spraying that diaper down with our new diaper sprayer. You were tickled to death, huh, as you watched your grandparents stand there wide-eyed.

You got us good, daughter. But in the end we won.

Because there is nothing so fun as a baby taking a bath. Oh yes, you won the battle, Ruth, but we won the war.

Keeping it real, folks. Just keeping it so very real.