Picture this: I'm relaxing downstairs in the living room while Dr. Husband is upstairs, giving Short One a bath. Said child was probably 18 months old or so at the time, so Wee One wasn't born yet. I'm idly watching television and sort of hearing the goings-on upstairs through the baby monitor in the room, but not really paying attention because hey, I'm not up there. It's HIS job tonight.
Suddenly, I hear the beginnings of noise that make the goings-on sound like they're turning into a bona-fide throughother. Short One is objecting to his father's opinion that bath time is over. I can hear Dr. Husband doing his best to reason with the boy, but it's not working. Yeah, I'm paying attention now, but only because it's making me giggle helplessly.
Finally, the inevitable happens: Dr. Husband has decided reasoning with an 18-month-old isn't working (men are so cute how they'll try and try and try), so he lifts the child out of the tub. Short One is wet and slippery, and is also throwing a full-blown tantrum, complete with twisting and turning. At this point, my husband says, "Short One, I wouldn't put you back in this tub right now if you were ON FIRE!"
And then he notices my bellows of laughter from the living room and remembers that the baby monitor is still on. Yeah...that was fun :)
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