My friend Justine used to frequently encourage me to take baths with Grace. Every time, I told her I was a shower girl, not a bath person, and she insisted I was missing out on a wonderful bonding opportunity. Grace has such thick hair I have to dunk her back into the water to get it wet, then repeat the same maneuver to rinse out the shampoo. After our involuntary swim at the coast, however, Grace was becoming increasingly freaked out at bath time, and The Dunk will probably never again be possible. Last night I thought she might relax a little if I climbed in with her, and I will say this, Justine: I was wrong. We had a grand bubble bath together, and I even managed to shave my legs for a change. Gigi still went completely rigid when I tried to tip her head back into the water, so I used her princess cup to pour water over her hair instead. She didn't care for that either, so I let her do the same to me, then I made an enormous display of sputtering and coughing, which she found hilarious and wanted to do over and over. (She's an easy audience.) When we were done soaking in our own filth (I still don't get baths, other than as an excuse to get naked with someone, you know, closer to my own age and preferably male), I turned on the shower while the water drained, and Grace squealed like she was running through a sprinkler on a hot day. We had fun, we bonded and while we were toweling off, Grace made the astute observation, "Mommy, I don't have boobies." Not yet, noodle, but you've got good genes.
Here's one from the archives, when every bath was an adventure. Watching it made me cry.