It all started innocently enough.
“Can I use your bathtub for my bath and put the jets on?”
(Chuckling) “Sure. Just remember I want you to be IN BED by 8:00pm, and try not to get so much water on the floor, ok?”
“Thanks!” (I hear water running.)
A full hour passes. I hear giggling. I hear laughing. I hear a concerning amount of splashing.
“Hey Mom! You gotta see this!”
“Wait a minute honey. I’m just checking my blog to see if anyone is at all interested in my blatherings.”
“But Mom! You’ve got to come NOW! Its important!”
(Hmmm. THAT can’t be good.)
And this is what I walked into:
Actually, it was much higher than this.
Now, SOME people might get angry. There was, after all, a considerable amount of water and bubbles on the floor. There was hardly any of my Pomegranite-Incredibly-Expensive-Guaranteed-to-Make-You-Look-and-Smell-Better-Than-You-Do-Naturally Soap left. The cat was wet. Not entirely, but enough to show he’d narrowly missed a bath himself. And, it was past 8:00…the IN BED deadline.
But to those people, I say…. STOP. Look at this picture again:
Do you remember at all what it felt like to be 8? I sure as hell don’t.
And I sure as hell wish I could.