One of the things they don’t tell you in those parenthood
preparation courses is that if you’re going to have children, you'll need to share your bathtub with their toys.
“What are you doing?” I asked my husband one afternoon, as
he headed for the bathroom door with a thick Turkish towel draped over one arm
and a bar of soap in the other hand.”
“Getting ready for a bath,” he said in the tone of voice that
means if you’d open your eyes, you wouldn’t
have to ask!” He had come home from work with tired circles
under his eyes and the kind of look that says I need a couple of hours to soak and meditate.
“Uh uh,” I tried to let him down gently. “You’ll have to go downstairs and take a
quick shower. Barbie and Ken have
first dubs on our tub for their afternoon swim.”
“Afternoon swim!” came my husband’s mystified response. “Can’t those two swim in the kitchen sink?”
“I don’t think so. It’s
not big enough to accommodate all their beach toys. Besides, Barbie’s little sister Skipper has
already set up her Jacuzzi there.”
“Jacuzzi? I suppose
you’re going to tell me our daughters have contrived a working whirlpool
for their dolls in the sink?”
“Well, not exactly.
But the girls do say my hand-crank eggbeater makes a nice alternative.”
“Great,” was all that poor man could muster, but from the way his
shoulders drooped, I could see my worn-out spouse had resigned himself to
taking a steamy shower in the basement bathroom.
I watched with some trepidation as he dragged himself and his towel down the steep flight of stairs.
“By the way,” I had to break the news, “I don’t think there’s much hot water left in
the tank. Rub-a-Dub Doggie just got finished with his
shower-powered sauna!”
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| If you’re going to have children, you'll need to share your bathtub with their toys. |
