We really wanted to see some of the Democratic debate tonight, so we did what all responsible parents do-we put our child in the bathtub and watched it in the next room. I was listening carefully to make sure there was an adequate amount of talking to toys and splashing, so I knew he was perfectly safe while I watched Obama and Clinton battle it out. I wasn't worried about the splashing because I had tucked the inner curtain into the tub before the bath started. And Caleb DOES play in the tub for about thirty minutes every night, as did Nikki when she was a preschooler. So really, everything was fine. Or so I thought.
Suddenly, there was a loud crash and a cry from Caleb. We rushed to the bathroom, opened the door, and gasped. There was at least an inch of water covering the entire bathroom floor. Scott and I looked at each other, he stripped off his socks, and went wading in to check on Caleb while I fetched our entire stock of beach towels.
So while we feel we can be informed voters, and our bathroom floor is now exceedingly clean, our son has two red welts on his armpit and back and our washing machine is working overtime on some extremely saturated towels.
Yep, we're definitely in the running for Parents of the Year.
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