Henry's face. His expression. It was calm, matter of fact, rather unimpressed. It said simply, "this is what we do and where we do it." Unfortunately, the "what" was pooping and the "where" was the bathtub. Said pooping had been foreshadowed just a minute before by a few bubbles in the water, just a bit of baby gas. Cute harmless little tub farts. It had been enough to get me on the alert, but when nothing happened, I fell back into a false state of calm, believing the little GooGoo's waste expulsion to be over for the moment. And for the moment it was, but then the moment passed just a little too quickly for my liking. Next thing I know, I'm scrambling out of the tub and calling The Ash for help. And Henry? Absolutely no help. He was downright casual about the whole matter. I can say that he at least didn't try to make it into a toy, but maybe that's because I got him out of that tub post-fucking-haste.
Nothing like a turd floatin' in the water to get everybody's adrenaline pumping.