The awful truth

Friday night we gave Samson a bath. Nothing unusual about that, really. We try to give him a bath most nights as he's usually got whatever was for dinner in his hair. And he really enjoys splashing around in the tub. I don't think I can overstate that fact.

This Friday night, however, I noticed a small jet of water moving outward from young Samson and heard him, in his continuing role as the narrator of our lives, say "peeing." Which he was.

At which point I went into emergency mode and made ready to empty the tub, swaddle the as yet unbathed child, and re-start the bath process.

But Vicki stopped me, saying "you know he does that all the time."

Gentle reader, I can assure you I had no idea that he did this all the time. Were we in the kiddie pool, I would certainly have assumed that. At the beach, I would have assumed that. Heck, even on a log flume ride I would have assumed that. But I guess I've just been under the impression all these months that he's got an outstanding track record of holding it in while in the tub. [With one glaring exception.] Not so; not even a little so.

You may be wondering why this is such a big deal. I mean, when you think about it, it's hardly surprising. To paraphrase John Kerry, who among us hasn't peed in the tub?

Except that we use his bath time as a time to practice what he's learned in swimming. Which includes having him put his face in the water to blow bubbles. An important part of the whole face-in-the-water-bubbles drill has been my teaching by example. Which means I put my face in the water to blow bubbles.

We begin work on snorkeling skills this week...