So, it’s Thursday evening. As always, husband has left for language school – he goes twice a week on a Tuesday and a Thursday leaving me to do everything that he normally does in the evening.

On this particular Thursday it had been very hot, so Raven was wearing nothing but a nappy. She doesn’t normally have a bath on a Tuesday or a Thursday, because her father is out, but during dinner, her whole body was covered in spaghetti bolognese, and I thought, heck, how hard can it be to bathe a baby – because she did need it.

So, I find the bath and fill it with water – not too hot, not too cold. So far, so good. Find the bath toys. Yep, done. Add a tiny drop of soap. Check. And then the baby in the water. She loves her bath, so no problem, she’s in. But why is she crouching? Sit down, child, you’ll fall over and drown yourself! I’m sure her father has never mentioned to me that she refuses to sit down. I sit her down but she gets up as fast as that again. Hm. So, I hold on to her and start to wash her. And then it happens. As much poo as I’ve ever seen come out of a baby came out just then. Raven, obviously bemused by her new brown bath toys try to catch them, and I’m in a complete flap with a naked, slippery, and pooing baby in my hands. I manage to get her out onto the floor, but she screams blue murder. Wasn’t quite ready to get out, I gather. I get the shower head with the hand that isn’t holding my screaming daughter covered in poo trying to re-enter the water whilst slipping around on the wet floor and somehow get the water turned on as well. And then I hose her down and wash her as best I can. She’s not happy – at all. Apparently she’s terrified of the shower head – husband also has never mentioned this!

Anyways, she’s sort of clean, and I get her dried, nappied, fed, and put to bed. Then I need to deal with the bathwater. Can’t really flush it down the plughole, though I’m tempted to try. The tub holds quite a lot of water – can I even lift it to dispose of the water down the loo? Well, I guess I’ve got to give it a try. So, I lift the tub – it’s not easy to balance – the water is making waves already. Not far to the loo – but too far. So, there it goes – 50 litres of poo-water all over the bathroom floor.

I vacate the room of everything, and start cleaning like I've never cleaned before. Again, shower comes in handy, as I can wash the whole room down with the hose and just before DH gets home at 9 p.m. the bathroom is sparkling, and, I hasten to add, completely poo-less.

“Did you have a nice evening?” husband asks.

Yeah, not bad...