There is a rather large. . . um, amount of feces in the bathtub when Owen and Rhyle enter the bathroom. I am washing my hands at the sink (as well as some bath toys) and Tate, who is naked and wet, is sitting on the bath mat.
"Who had doo-doos in the tub?" Owen asks.
"Me." I deadpan, just to see what they will say next. Come on- is there really any question?!
"Really?" they ask. "Why?"
And about this time I realize that in their minds it must be plausible that I would decide to use a tub full of water instead of the toilet, and that I would then go on as if nothing was out of the ordinary. That is just as believable as Tate going in the bathtub. (To their credit they thought the mess was too big to come from Tate- gasp!)
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