He is inherently boy, this babe. He pushes trucks and elephants and boxes wrapped in duct tape around the patio and living room, vroom noises echoing off his lips. He pulls sticks from the pile of fire wood, kept for when the world turns cold, and plants them like flags in the muddy field bed of a Tonka truck.
So he doesn’t understand when I fill the tub with soapy water and wash the smoothie out of his hair and pry the dirt from his nails: this is just another game.
Fill the pool and connect the toys.
Rinse, lather, repeat.
Lavender suds and golden shampoo. Gentle on the eyes and warm on a mamma’s heart.
One more trip around the sun.
More bathtimes and playtimes that have slipped away and the toys change and new things become the unknown adventure.
So for today I’ll wrap up the dimpled behind that’s only cute when it hasn’t aged. I’ll towel off the drips and fasten the diaper.
And I’ll breath in the smell of one more mid-afternoon bath.