Last week we had bath-time for my little ragamuffins. Because I could not contain myself - can I ever with them? - I took pawparazzi pictures. Peaches moves around way too much for me to photograph her in the tub, but Amara tends to stand there, frozen, and occasionally huff at me. (Hence the slightly-out-of-focus pictures.)
Both Amara and Peaches tend to be a bit confused about bath time. They always seem to love the idea of it - until they get wet. In the morning when I go to wash my own hair and they hear the rush of water, they come running, begging to be put in the tub. Peaches'll half sit-half stand there, crying, wiggling her bum so fast that she could propel herself across the house with it. Meanwhile, Amara bounces around my feet like an unmanned pogo stick.
"Water? Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy. Bath. We want a bath! Take us with you! Can we come? Please, oh please, please, please let us bathe."
Then comes the actual bath time.
Maybe something gets lost in translation.
Maybe they forget that bath time means the water has to go on them.
Whatever it is, I am not their best friend. Peaches gives a dirty stare (which, given her gentle nature is humorous) as if cursing my existence. I can practically hear her grumble: "This is not what I signed on for." Amara widens her eyes, the epitome of puppy-dog eyes, and stares up at me, pleadingly: "But-but-but can't I come out now?"
|"Mom. Mom, I'm wet. There is water on me. |
I am standing in dampness. Mom.
Do something about this."
When it is all over, though, they both look up at me with such excitement. First, they deem me crazy for such torture. They return the favor by
|Got her edgy chick look goin' on. I think she's adorable. |
I need a picture. She's wondering why I haven't gotten her food yet.