One of the things I never considered when I decided to become a parent was that I would spend an hour every evening sitting on the floor of my bathroom, bathing my children and letting them play in the water. Or… doing other things that boys do in water.
Because my husband is a home brewer, Munchkin has come up with some interesting things to do in the bathtub. Like brewing bathwater beer, complete with his own master equipment set-up.
Yes, I do believe the upside down duck is a necessity to the proper flavor and fermentation. (Honestly, I was a little afraid to specifically ask.)
When Munchkin and Squeaker are in there together, it tends to be a wet affair for all three of us. And noisy. But who can be mad over happy little boy squeals, especially when Munchkin’s trained to use a towel to mop up the floor himself?
Well, there’s one member of the family who does take it rather poorly. This is Jinx.
And that bath mat she’s on? She thinks it’s her mama. Unless I’m writing, in which case my forearms are her mama. But at bath time, the cat wants to be involved, even though my children shriek and yell and splash water and offer her bath water beer, she has to be in there, rolling around and loving on the bath mat, or else we can’t proceed to the rest of her nightly rituals: leaving populated, lit rooms to meow by herself in the dark, pouncing on our other cat, Saffron (who has too much dignity to consider a bath mat to be her second mama), sneaking into the boy’s rooms so she can enjoy story time (and you don’t want to know what happens if we start story time without her), and finally, stretching her thirteen-pound body out over as much as possible of the queen-size bed that the hubby and I share.
But at least I know she’s had her bath too.
Posted by Jamie Cody.