Boys at age 4 are wiggly. This makes some of our routines a bit of a gymnastics exercise.
Last night, the muppets splished and splashed their way through bath time. Once the bathroom was thoroughly flooded â€“ meaning the balance of water was out of the tub rather than in â€“ it was time for pajama wrestling.
Destroy surged out of the bath and scampered off toward his bedroom, leaving a stream of bathwater behind him. Jon chased after him with a towel.
Search climbed out a bit more tentatively and I wrapped him up in a towel, while he stepped up onto his sink stepstool. Given the architecture of the bathroom, there is an approximate distance of 2.5 feet between the tub and vanity.
Search stood literally 2 inches from me as I turned to put toothpaste on his toothbrush.
Our routine was suddenly interrupted by a humongous crash.
Search was no longer standing next to me.
I turned my head 15 degrees to the right.
There was no longer a shower curtain affixed to wall.
I directed my gaze downward.
Search was now lying in the still half-full tub, cocooned in his towel and further wrapped in the beach-themed shower curtain heâ€™d brought down with him. He was wielding the shower rod like a champion lance, complete with a set of conquered rings. His eyes, wide with shock, stared back up at me.
I knew he couldnâ€™t be too badly hurt, due to the padding created by all the wreckage created in the fall. (Side note â€“ turns out we have VERY absorbent towels.)
â€œAre you ok?!â€ I asked, attempting to keep my voice measured so as to not freak the little man out â€“ yet growing increasingly concerned that he had uttered nary a peep. (Head injuries are scary shit, yâ€™all.)
â€œIâ€™M WET!â€ he wailed, wildly casting his eyes about and thrusting his shower-rod-lancet toward the drain plug.
Glad heâ€™s got the bigger issues in life identified. But to be fair â€“ he hadnâ€™t really dried off from bath yet anyway.