Baths: Redux

A few months back, at the start of my life here on Lorain Avenue, I questioned the value of Baths. I feel it is time to revisit this topic.

Initially, I felt that baths were not worth all the hype. The shameless theft of goodies I had delicately hidden in my bellyrolls, the ridiculously trendy hairstyles which twisted my red locks... and then there was the Suspicious Turtle.

The Suspicious Turtle appeared one day, without warning, at the foot of my tub. I was innocently receiving a thorough scrub from Mom, while safely clutching onto to Dad's hand (for moral support, really), when a green flash cut across my peripheral vision. Always on the lookout for anything suspicious, I immediately focused my energies on the task at hand: apprehending and questioning this new creature.

But the S.T. was having none of it. Tight-lipped, he gave me a mocking grin until I couldn't stands it no more! It was time for an official beat down! I broke out a can of WhoopAss, but he kept resurfacing - nothing could sink him.

As if caught in Bill Murray's classic Ground Hog Day, the Suspicious Turtle and I continue to dance the same waltz each time I am lowered into the tub. He slowly surfaces among the bubbles, I spot him immediately, and yet not matter how hard I splash him, I am defeated.

And yet, despite the fact that I have not yet achieved Total Domination over the S.T., I have discovered a silver lining.

The other night, while I was attempting to destroy my Bath Time Enemy with a few swift Judo kicks, I realized that due to the great strength of my martial art attacks, I was inadvertently soaking my parents with tub water. Their expressions of disgust at being soaked in dirty baby water gave me great pleasure.

Thus to recap: while I'm still not entirely fond of baths, and though the Suspicious Turtle is really cramping my style, at least I can rest easy knowing that if I'm going to be forced into the tub, I can secure my parent's necessity to take one themselves! Victory is sweet!