Katie still takes a bath most nights. She is perfectly capable of showering herself, but she prefers baths. Half the time I’m annoyed because there’s much to do around the house and I have to sit on the edge of the tub and help her wash her hair and time is precious.
Maddie just stopped taking baths one day and started showering all by herself. She didn’t give me any notice. She didn’t warn me that the last bath I gave her was the last bath I would give her. Surely if she would have warned me, I would have taken my time, treasured the moment, let my hands linger in her wet hair. I would remember our last bath time conversation and I would have memorized the smell of the soap on her body. I would have, right? I like to think so because time is precious.
So, I sit on the edge of the tub (even though I’m annoyed half the time) and I wash Katie’s hair and I watch her play and I listen to her endless jabber and I giggle at her giggle. Sometimes I am tempted to sneak away for a moment to throw the laundry in the dryer or load the dishes in the sink or sit on the toilet in silence. But I don’t. I sit on the edge of the tub because time is precious.