Every evening when we're at home, Elio gets a bath. It's part of the routine we've been trying to establish. Because we don't have a bath tub, Elio has to make do with the kitchen sink. When he was smaller, we could leave all the drying dishes right there on the drainboard. Now that he's bigger and more upright and grabby, we have to move everything out of his reach, except for his plastic spoon and bath toys--a yellow star and a trio of colorful dinosaurs that he likes to gnaw on. It's a sweet time of day--he quietly splashes while we quietly wash him and get to enjoy a few minutes of seeing all of him, naked, and the way his little muscles work. His little spine. His shoulder blades. Then we do a "3, 2, 1...liftoff!" and whisk him out, wrap him in a towel and then proceed to wrestle him into his pajamas. Another day almost over.
No comments:
Post a Comment