Who pooped in the pool?

So I took Jack for his daily swim today. We try to go every day unless the rain beats us to the pool. There was a sweet couple with their young son at the pool. I prefer to be alone at the pool when I throw my 14 month-old son in head first and expect him to flip over. I'm afraid that some wouldn't approve of this scene and call Child Protective Services.

He did very well today. We practiced two flips, some hops in the pool, some dunks and he swam to the steps. I was about to toss him for his third flip and float when I heard that familiar sound Jack makes when he bears down to drop a load. Oh shit.

I dodge to the steps with my hand pressed firmly on his ass. You see, we can't put swim diapers on him because they get too heavy and he can't float. And who has never peed in a pool? Anyway, it is this point in time that the very nice couple decides to ask me where he learned to swim. I briefly give them details about his swim lesson experience, location, cost and duration and fly through the gate, all the way home. One hand locking his knee together and the other hand still holding pressure. If this kid is anal retentive due that Freudian potty-training stage, it's my fault.

Following a thorough hose down in the shower, I pull him out to rinse the tub and peel the load from his trunks into the toilet. Meanwhile, he's butt naked in the nursery marching in a puddle of urine on the carpet!

I really need a shower.