Currently the only functional tub in our house is up on the fourth floor.
Our eventual master bathroom has never worked, and Jordan's bathroom, which he and I share, is under construction. Betty has a great shower, but our son hates showers. Haaaates the water on his head.
So he and I trek up to the fourth floor to Nick's bathroom. Jordan finds it extremely exciting. "We're going to have a bath in Daddy's bathtub! Let's play with his toys!"
I took a cute video of Jordan bobbing around in the bath. He thought I was taking his picture, so he kept grinning for the camera saying, "Cheese!" over and over.
And then he sang the alphabet, ending with, "Cheese!"
A friend asked me if I was going to post it on my blog, and I said I wanted to, but then realized that his little butt was in the frame. "I am worried," I said, "about having it up on the internet for icky pedophiles."
"Are there any other kind of pedophiles?"
Uh. Good point.
So I give you approximately half an alphabet, sung by the flying nun.
When I get Jordan out of the bath, I wrap him all up in a towel and cuddle him all swaddled and rock him and say, "Who's my baby?"
I didn't realize I always did this. But I do. Because now, when Nick is the one picking him up all snuggled in the towel, Jordan looks up at his dad and says, "Who's my baby?"
Nick and I were talking about how much fun the bath can be, and he said how sad he's going to be when Jordan gets too old to be bathed.
Then I was all, "You're probably going to be bigger than him for a long time. You might be able to force him to let you give him baths through at least junior high school."
Because that wouldn't damage someone for life.
It's been a mild winter, but I realized this morning that the span of a winter is still a long time in kid years. In the interim, our kid forgot about shorts entirely.
So when Nick tried to put a pair on him this morning, he was incensed.
"NO! Take them OFF! These pants are BROKEN! I want good pants!"