Don't Read This if You are Afraid of the Word POOP

I've been so proud of Drew and his potty training. Accidents have become virtually non-existent.
Even in the bathtub he will tell me if he needs to go. Today I walked a little too far away. Just for a minute, but that was all it took. He said he called me, but I was too late. By the time I came back to the bathroom Drew was standing in the tub surrounded by tub toys and poop. "Oh man!" was all I could say. I can handle poop in a diaper but soggy and in a tub full of toys?! NO WAY! I pulled him out, thankful that he didn't play in it. Somehow he still had to go more and so I plopped him on the potty. At least I am learning from past mistakes! But now I had to wait and wait for him to finish so I could clean the tub out. I tried to talk my loving husband into it but he said that it might put me into labor. Ha! Dustin quickly vanished, but how could I be mad at him? He began installing the infant carseat that we will need when I do go into labor.

So it was just me and Drew and a tub full of poop and toys. Drew was still sitting on the potty and I was beginning to get impatient. Here is our conversation
Me: "Aren't you done yet?"
D: "Nope." (huge grin on his face)
Me: "Come on Drew finish."
D: "Mommy"
Me: "What?"
D: "I love you. But I still have to poop." (his grin looked pretty wicked by this point)

Finally he gets off and I scrub him down and send him to his room to dress. This really means that I gave him the opportunity to run around his room with his nunders in his hand instead of on his body.

I start cleaning up his mess and immediately start gagging. Drew immediately hears me and says "Mommy, you love my poop. You love my poop. You LOVE my poop."