When I was little and my mom still had to tell me to take baths at night I spent the majority of them lying down in the tub and swooshing my hair through the water by waving my head from side to side. The way it moved through the water fascinated me. I never used to plug my ears to keep the water out but now the thought of submerging my head with open ears makes me cringe. We moved around every few years when I was a kid so I encountered a lot of different bathrooms. Only one of them had a claw-foot tub, my mom’s favorite because of how deep they are. My mom loves baths. Baths, pajamas, movies, and coffee. She’ll take a bath during the day to keep warm, to relax, to get away from my brothers, or just to pass the time. Often she’ll take several baths in one day. I think I like baths too, but they make me feel vulnerable. I don’t like to feel the cold hard wall against my head, but I don’t want water to get into my ears either. And no matter how warm the water is there will most certainly be limbs that just have to be cold because for whatever reason, they haven’t invented affordable bathtubs that you don’t have to bend your knees in. there’s always this mysterious draft in the bathroom when you take a bath. Any skin poking out above the surface risks a fresh wave of goose pimples. I’m not a fan of washing my hair in a bath. I used to swoosh my hair around to get the shampoo out but then my mom told me it would put knots in my hair. I kept swooshing after that, but I took careful note of whether or not it tangled more when I swooshed. I stopped when I started having to comb the snarls out myself. I used to read everything when I was a kid. I read cereal boxes during breakfast and shampoo bottles when I took a bath. The Pantene Pro-V bottles always got to me because they had a picture of damaged hair versus Pantene treated hair and the little scaly pieces sticking out of the damaged strands disgusted me. I kept looking. I’d love to read during a bath but visions of sopping wet pages deter me. There’s no way around it. I can’t see myself lowering into the tub without getting my hands wet. When they do it in the movies I get frustrated. I wasn’t particularly fond of bath time as a child but once I was in you couldn’t get me out. Once the water started to get cold I’d let some out and turn the hot back in. I swirled my hands around my body like a whirlpool, just like I’d seen my mom do it, until the tepid felt like a warm blanket once more. I like the way it makes my skin tingle when a chilled arm or leg submerges. It sends shivers deep into my muscles, much the same way a hot shower constantly pours over you. I don’t read the shampoo and conditioner anymore. When I have to lean back I’ll usually rest my head against my hand while the water beads through the hair on my arm. I get bored with this relatively fast and eventually slide back down to rest my head in the water. I plug my ears now, but I still get the urge to swoosh my hair.

Yesterday was Pajama Day. For his selection, he donned a footed one- piece number (much to his parents' chagrin), and topped it with a pair of green Crocs clogs. At the end of the day, Momo was pleased to report that while the other children had changed into street clothes, his sartorial selection remained intact. After class, bath time ensued. Note to self: sand and footie pajamas do not mix.