Teach Your Parents Well

Sigh. Bathtime in our house is ... an adventure. One part Esther Williams movie, one part amusement park ride, one part horror movie, and one part something all together else. There is a lot of screaming and laughing and splashing and chattering and oh my God, the toys:

We have a LOT of tub toys. More tub toys that probably we ought to, if you want to know the truth. Although I have never done the actual math, I'm willing to bet money that the combined weight of our bathtub toys exceeds that of our actual child.

Cupcake's favorite tub toys are her rubber duck (from Aunt Jaime) and two Little People that she got for Christmas. She calls them "Mommy" and "Daddy":

Now, the "Mommy" part I understand. She's a little round blonde lady (check!) with an orange bathing suit (check!) who wears her sunglasses on her head (check!) -- she looks kind of like me. My sunglasses are black Gucci knockoffs, but still. But ... "Daddy?" My husband has a red baseball cap and dark hair, but beyond that the resemblance is specious at best. Is he just "Daddy" because he hangs around with "Mommy" all the time? I mean, really. My husband doesn't even own beach sandals, let alone flip-flops.


  1. he's daddy because he's the boy, silly.
    and seriously, all i have right now is my blog. you better start commenting on it so i know that in some small way i'm contributing to society, if only the small society that makes up the haldaman/black family.

  2. yeah, but ... she thinks daddy is jamaican? he barely even has a tan!