This morning, we walked Lily to school, came home, and I settled Emmy on my bed with a stack of picture books so that I could take a shower.
I stepped in, and as the warm water washed over me, the muscles in my back relaxed and I heaved a sigh of relief. After rushing around this morning — throwing a load of laundry in the washer, making the girls breakfast, dressing the girls, throwing the laundry in the drier, packing Lily’s lunch and rushing her off to school — I needed a few minutes to myself.
I needed to shave under my arms, as I have my annual mammogram this afternoon. I thought I might as well shave my legs as well. Just as I had finished shaving under my right arm, I thought I heard screaming over the noise of the shower spray. What could be going on?
I turned off the shower, the bar of soap still in my hand. “Emmy, are you all right?” I called.
“I’M FIRSTY!!” Emmy shouted. {Insert fake crying here.}
“I’m almost done!” I replied, and turned the shower back on, quickly washed my face and my hair.
By the time I stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around my dripping body, and headed out of the bathroom to see what Emmy was up to, she had dragged a chair over to the refrigerator and opened the door. I got out the gallon of milk, and poured her a glass.
Thank goodness for jeans-wearing weather!
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