“Tub time” — those words have such a beautiful ring as a parent — or at least for this parent.
“Tub time” means getting clean time, but that’s really not such a big concern each evening for an 8-year-old.
“Tub time” means quiet, and that’s big for me!
After a long vacation weekend of single parenting, no school or regular weekend activities, and a day of rain, quiet is such a gift.
Don’t get me wrong, she’s already called me in twice.
Once, she asked if I could throw away some long-past-due tub toy that started its life on the top of a candy container. Her request could have waited.
The second time, she asked me to play her newly invented tub game — it’s amazing what you can do with a plastic bowl (I was looking for that bowl for pancakes this morning) and a few other household objects.
My only rule is that water must stay in the tub.
This rule is never followed.
My socks still get wet each time she calls me in — nothing worse than wet socks. Well, there are much worse things, but as far as first-world-problems go, wet socks are toward the top for me tonight.
- — -
I sit in my office and compose this blog with the soft sounds of singing coming from the bathroom. I hear splashing and giggling.
I sit here at once both grateful for a bit of time to myself and feeling drawn to go back in — to keep her company, to play, to soak up every moment before she grows up and starts requesting privacy while she bathes.
- — -
It’s an interesting combination of pleasure — enjoying the quiet time — and guilt — knowing I could be spending this time with her.
She calls: “Daddy, can you come play now?”
I know how quickly these years will slip by.
When I first became a father, I was counseled to brush her hair every day. This routine, I was assured, created a special bond between father and daughter. Though this is my usual routine, I think I skipped today. She didn’t even get out of her pajamas all day.
- — -
She called me in again. This time I stayed.
She baked me a cake.
I asked how the water drops made it all the way up to the ceiling.
I dried her off.
And now she’s in bed.
She’s clean.
And loved.
And I have some quiet time.
Though I’m so tempted to go in and check on her as she sleeps.
