Squeaky Clean

I'm not really a Very Good Mommy.

I don't wash my kids every day.

I mean, I wipe down their dirty parts as often as necessary, but actual baths?  Not so good at that. 

A relaxing way to end the day and wind down for bedtime?  I think not.

Goofiness and crying and big wet messes, that's bathtime, and it's great fun, but not every day.

Once as a kid taking a bath with my brother, I dumped a whole bottle of dishsoap, which we used as bubble bath and which was conveniently left by the tub, into the water.  Then we kicked and splashed until the suds mounded up over our heads and onto the floor, and my brother got some in his eyes and started crying.

I guess I don't see the need to do full-blown baths every day.  I think it's not so good to wash all the good flora and oils off the skin.

Yeah, that's it.   That's my story and I'm stickin' to it.  (Because the only other explanation is that I'm lazy, which might be true as well.  Possibly.)

All that to say that at the ripe old age of 10 days, Andrew finally got a bath.  He was due.  He did not scream and fuss, he just looked quite concerned the whole time.  And perhaps a bit cold, but we got him all bundled up again quickly.  And now he smells only of that wonderful, addictive newborn smell and I spent all the rest of the day just sniffing him.