Your dad worked as hard as he could, but it still took about three days to demo our old shower, frame in the new walls, and change all of the plumbing to accomodate our new tub. That means we all spent three days together in a relatively small house in 90+ degree heat without bathing. Actually, now that I think of it, your grandmother slept out in our guest house. That light bulb is just now coming on for me.
Since we put in our new tub, you've been averaging about three baths a day. The bathtub IS pretty terrific, I must say, measuring 66" long at its longest point. After spending the past few years of your life bathing in a file box, this is like a whole new spa experience for you.
On the first morning it was installed, I took a bath, and you got in with me. When I was done, I asked you if you wanted to get out, and you told me, "No." "But it's Grandma Sue's turn for a bath," I reminded you. You shrugged your shoulders, suggesting that Grandma Sue's needs were not your problem. I drained out my water, and refilled the tub for Grandma Sue while you hung out and waited for Round 2.
Later that night, your dad took a bath and you went running into the bathroom, pulling your shirt over your head as you went. Apparently, the new rule in our house is: No One Bathes Alone. Future household guests, please plan accordingly.
As Dad's water drained away, you called out to me, "C'on, Mom!" "No thanks, I'm not interested in taking a bath right now." You narrowed your little eyes and asked, "'Ere's Ah Sue?" "She went home." You stuck out your bottom lip, defeated. You'd officially run out of bathtub buddies.
And before you ask, there's no way in hell I'm putting Gus and Ella in that tub.
Love,
Mom
No comments:
Post a Comment