Tonight my hubby got in the tub with the kids to wash them up. This was good, as I didn’t want to get in the tub with Baby Girl and the crumbs she has falling from everywhere.
Having a once-in-a-blue-moon sweet wife moment, I offered to bring Sam a beer after the kids got out, plus handle getting them ready for bed. (This can take some time with Baby Girl, who is still rocked to sleep. She will make her mean face, baring all teeth at you for several minutes, then move on to cursing you in baby, then call for her daddy and brother, then blow raspberries, all before suddenly conking out.)
Little Man’s ears perked up at the mention of his dad getting out of the tub. “I bet the water level in the tub will go way down when Daddy gets out!”
I snickered. “Little Man, just what are you trying to say?”
He hesitated before realizing what I was getting at. “I’m not trying to say Daddy’s fat. I’m just trying to say the water level will go way down when he gets out because he’s huge and is forcing a lot of water up.”
Because that was a much nicer way of putting it.
“Little Man!” I exclaimed.
He gave me the Are you an idiot? look. “Are you suggesting that the water level will get higher when Daddy gets out?” he asked rather slowly.
“No…not at all.”
“Like I said, it will go down a lot. It wouldn’t make nearly as much difference if I or Baby Girl get out.”