Tonight’s bath time was out of a horror movie, Momma-style.
I had most of the kids in the tub, lined up. I walked out for a minute to check on supper (backwards, I know, bath then supper, but it’s the way tonight was going) and when I came back in, I set to work. Grabbing a cup off the edge of the tub, I stuck my finger in it to be certain it wasn’t cold and, finding it quite warm, poured it over one dear child’s head.
Minutes later, smelling pee in a bathroom I’d just scrubbed, I asked if someone had peed in the tub. Since Pierce was already out, all remaining parties were old enough to know better. Silence. And then the truth came out. Two small children, too lazy to get out of the tub, peed in a cup. Then, so kind to keep it out of the water, they set it on the side of the tub.
Have you filled in the blanks yet? Oh yes. I just wet one dear child’s hair with that cup.
The jury’s still out on whether I can raise up these hooligans up to be productive citizens.