Clean Up on Aisle 4! We've Got a Dad In Charge Here People.

Gina's got some kind of nasty bug suddenly.  Spent a good portion of Sunday night praying to the porcelain god and was just plain wiped all day Monday (actually cancelled her yoga classes for once. ... I recall a time she tried to reschedule a c-section so she could still teach an afternoon class; so that's saying something).  Fortunately my mother-in-law was home to help out with the girls all day and Gina just spent the 24 hours in bed or on the bathroom floor.  I felt it important to leave early (formerly known as "on time") from work to make sure I was there to handle dinner, baths and bed time; and we made it through most of the evening in one piece.  And why wouldn't we?  We do this all the time when Gina's teaching, anyway.  But then Rosaline called a last minute audible and pooped in her high chair at the end of the meal.  This creates a paradox, we'll call it the Daddy Paradox.  Do I change her into a new diaper only to take it off at bath time in, literally, 1.37 minutes?  Or. ... do I try and time it right that I can run up the stairs and get the naked as the day she was born 1 year old in the filling tub before she feels free enough in her nudity to release what ever else she's got in the tank.  Naturally I'm a man, so I'm stupid.  I've also procreated which makes me a father and, by default, has granted me a false sense of confidence in my abilities to parent.  I opted for the more interesting of the choices (and cheaper - men also become cheap when the become fathers).  As I'm bounding up the stairs, giggling streaker safely tucked in my arms like the Heisman Trophy football I hear Gina call after me (in her best "I've been throwing up all day" voice) "You're pretty brave there Daddy!"  Brave.  Ha!  That has nothing to do with it.  I've done a  million baths and know exactly what I'm doing.  Set baby down.  Plug tub up. Turn on water.  Grab baby. ... grab baby. ... baby?  Turns out Genevieve sprinted past us to the toilet in the same bathroom to go pee.  For some reason Rosaline likes to keep her company when she does this. ... it's a regular thing.  So she followed Genevieve to the toilet.  "Come here, baby" I call to her.  She smiles.  Takes one step.  Pee's like a racehorse prior to the Derby and then takes here delayed second step right into the puddle, slipping in her own urine.  Fortunately she didn't get hurt and I got her in to the tub with out so much as a sniffle.  Genevieve, meanwhile, is pee locked on the toilet as she can't get down from her perch until I clean it up.  Arianna is now in the tub, water is filled and turned off and pee has been cleaned up.  Now to wipe Genevieve.  Where'd all the toilet paper go?!!!