My children get bathed every other day. (Which I’m quite proud of considering I have ten reasons why no one should bathe everyday. Mostly I‘m lazy but that seems lame to write ten times.)
Usually they take baths. Together. And I get to go another day without water and soap touching my body. But recently the SHOWER has become quite intriguing.
And they can’t shower by themselves (jerks). Because they are four and seventeen months old (oh yeah).
So either Scott or I gets in with them. Naked. (Please don’t suggest I wear a swimsuit. Mostly because it’s stupid. But also because your Victorian-ness won’t fly in a house where farts are our second language.)
Now it turns out that when I’m in the shower, I have about three spots where water pools and then runs off into lovely arching fountains. And they all happen to be my goodies. (Seriously, after you read this, go shower. Not because you feel dirty but because you are DYING to find your fountains.)
So there I am showering with my son. The shower is full of toys. Toys like THE GIANT BLUE BUCKET OF AWKWARD.
It doesn’t LOOK awkward? Well, just keep reading friends.
My son is sitting on the floor of the shower and he takes the AWKWARD BUCKET before we recognize it as the AWKWARD BUCKET and starts filling it up.
I look down and realize. He’s using the PUBIC HAIR FOUNTAIN.
Now we have had THE TALK and I’m pretty big on NOT finding our bodies embarrassing. So I decide to subtly shift to the right.
And he nonchalantly moves the bucket to the right to keep filling it up.
I shift to the left.
The bucket shifts to the left.
I move back and around and left and right.
I’m like ELVIS doing the hula hoop.
And the AWKWARD BUCKET STAYS AWKWARD.
I finally step out of the warm stream of water goodness and into the CHILLY WITHOUT WATER SECTION OF THE SHOWER.
And I breathe a sigh of relief.
Until E moves the bucket to catch the drips.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
I gentle suggest he use the shower head to fill his bucket.
He says no.
Drip. Drip. Drip
And keeps the blue bucket right between my legs.
I look over at Scott as he walks into the bathroom and whisper with my face pressed against the glass: awkward.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Scott: Well, it’s going to be a long awkward at the rate that bucket’s filling.
I look down. The awkward bucket looks up.
I get back into the shower stream.
Awkward Bucket: 1; Normal Parenting: 0