It has now become a tradition to help with the baby bath [I’ve actually been rather digging it].
Every evening around six, pop her into the Fisher-Price whale tub… then hurry to scrub her before she can squeeze off a floater.
This evening a buddy of mine called to see if I’d come on a hike.
Coolio. I get halfway into tying my shoes, eagerly vowing to join him when I catch the dangerous look in my wife’s eye:
The burning third eye of Shiva... it shook me to the core.
“Go ahead. Go on that hike after you’ve been out all day leaving me with your grumpy child. I will this very instant bite your ear off.”
“Uhm… bro? I’m gonna have to take a raincheck.”
Really?
“Yeah man, kinda beat.”
And with that, I proceed to run the bath water.
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