Poo poo IN the potty. Not BY it.

We know it's a little early but we bought you a potty. We kept pointing to it and saying, "Do your wees and poos in here now, comprende?" You kept pointing to it and saying, "Poo." This was our indication that you understood.

Fast forward.

Downstairs, sweet potatoes roasting in the oven; Pointless on the TV; you playing with Happy without a nappy but in your wellies (you insisted). Constantly we were reminding you: "Poo poo in the potty, Noah." You kept sitting on it for practice. All was well with the world.

The next bit happened in slow motion. I was watching Richard Osman make some underhand comment about a ridiculous answer on Pointless, whilst your mummy glanced over the coffee table. She then said in a distressed, slightly too loud voice: "Stephen, Noah has done a massive shit on the floor and he's walked in it in his wellies...[then, in a higher octave]...HE IS LITERALLY WALKING SHIT AROUND THE ROOM RIGHT NOW!"

Daddy burst into action:

Step 1: Lift you off the ground to prevent any further spread.
Step 2: Divvy up the jobs. I tell your Mummy to take you up and throw you in the bath. This command is delivered by passing you to her, at arms length, and saying, simply, "SHOWER."
Step 3: Clean up the shit. The shit, by the way, that has lumps of godknowswhat in it and has seeped into the cracks in the wooden floor. It took ages, delicately getting every last piece of drippy shit off the floor.
Step 4: Bleach the floor.
Step 5: Stand downstairs for 5 minutes with head in hands.
Step 6: Put the pristine potty in the spare room for now.