Mike usually arrives home from work around the time that Carter would take a bath, so instead of running water for both, Carter typically takes a shower with his daddy while I do the after dinner blog reading kitchen cleaning . It’s a compromise that’s worked for us since I dread bath time with a passion.

Last night, Mike was home later then usual, and I - like normal - avoided giving Carter a bath. I figured it was the night that he didn’t need one. You know, to keep the schedule flexible so that it’s not a necessity in order to get him to sleep. Break up the pattern a bit so they don’t lose their shit when something doesn’t go as scheduled. *cough* BULLSHIT *cough*

Shower time used to be a nightmare ever since Carter was accustomed to swimming in the tub; having water rain down on him while he sat on slippery porcelain was typically met with shrills more like screeching monkeys in heat. Now? He can’t wait to strip butt naked and jump in the shower with his dad ever since Mike taught him how to spit water like a fountain.

Don’t ask.

Where was I? Yes, Mike home late.

He jumped in the shower while I cleaned Carter up after dinner; once clean, he waddled his way up the five steps to the washroom level. Assuming that he may be trying to get in the shower with his dad, I kept on reading blogs cleaning the kitchen.

I then heard this little squeal as Carter came tearing from the bathroom and Mike whining from the shower.

Mike: Huuuuunnnnn.

Me: Yes?

[Thinking he may have forgot to bring his towel into the bathroom again, I went up the steps.]

Mike: Carter was peaking at me in the shower.

[Holy fuck! Did I just enter a time warp or something?]

Me: And?

Mike: He looked at my penis.

I suspect the world, as we know it, will spin off its axis and cease to exist should Carter ever reach out to yank on it.