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The Showering Man Cometh
My sons never bathed together. Due to a nearly 10-year age gap, my older son preferred to do his own thing. I couldn’t blame him — toddler bathwater is notoriously urine-friendly.
Prior to “stranger danger” sensitivities, people used to share photos of their children in the tub; shampooing each other’s hair or simply smiling and sitting in a row. Boston Legal did an entire episode around a divorced couple suing for sole custody, based around the father sharing a tub photo that exposed the child’s private parts.
My older son was fond of wash cloths that doubled as hand puppets. A playful storytime element kept him engaged in the tub, as he waited for each character (Winnie the Pooh, Mickey Mouse, and a chicken) to make their appearance [See photo]. As he grew older, my ex-wife and I stressed the importance of advocating for his own cleanliness. Thankfully, high functioning autism did not offset his sense of smell — he could certainly tell when he needed a bath, and eventually, a shower.
My younger son didn’t take to the character wash cloths. To him, bath time was functional and routine. Until by chance I thew in a plastic hippo play figure and had it start talking to him in a funny voice. “Hi, hippo,” he responded. This morphed into a game called “Hippo Shot.” Basically, I found eight strategic places to put a three-ounce bathroom paper cup on the…
