Bath time!

May, 2009.

He’s argued his whole life about taking a shower. His whole life consisted of 13 years so far but it wasn’t going to be much longer if he didn’t cooperate right this minute. He must have seen the craziness in my eyes, because he turned around and stomped up the stairs.

I sunk in my chair with relief. One battle down, and who knows how many more before we argue about bedtime. After about ten minutes of silence, it dawned on me that I wasn’t hearing the shower. I headed to the stairwell just as he was coming down.

“Wait a minute, kiddo. You’re hair isn’t even wet. You didn’t shower, did you?”

“I’m clean. I took care of it. Smell me if you have to!”

“I’ll pass on that, thank you. How did you get clean?”

Dead silence.

“Well?”

“I used Oust.”

It took me a moment to process this.

“Take a sniff, mema. I smell real good.”