My kids are way into taking baths.  They love a long warm soak with some toys.  They love to float.  unfortunately for them, we often don’t have time for that.  Well, I suppose we could have time but I also know that they need to get to bed at a decent hour.  Tonight they got to get one in.  When they are dripping and singing, I hear genunie happiness.  Why can’t we all find such happiness in such simple pleasures?

When my son gets out of the bath that kid is pink.  I call him Pinky Boy.  When he gets out I often sing “PINKY BOY!” in my best operatic voice.  He gets a kick out of that, almost as much as I do.  The kid is just plain old pink wherever he been in contact with the warm water.  It amuses me.  He takes it in stride.   I love that kid.

My daughter likes to stretch out and feel as weightless as possible.  She dips her hair in the water and smiles.  She doesn’t get pink.  Apparently she got my skin.  They both tell stories and sing in the tub.  Seriously, they are just plain old content when they take a bath.

I took a bath recently.  I managed to keep it a secret for a while but before too long the children wanted a piece of that action.  They came to visit and before I knew it were shucking their duds to climb on in with me.  It got a little crowded.  I ceded the tub.  I did get some good quiet time in.  They were the ones amused when they saw me reading a magazine.  Paper and water.  I would never let them mix those two things.

They do tend to get cleaner in the shower, but it is hard to deny them a bath at least once per week.  We now have some filmy tepid water slowly draining.  They splashed so much tonight that it managed to leak through to the first floor.  Rascals.  They are cozy in towels.  Cute buggers.