We ate tea tonight and like always, Amy smeared it all over herself. Unlike other nights though, tonight’s tea was sticky (and delicious) and it required more than a facewasher to clean her up.
As I was running the bath, it struck me that I do this all the time without thinking about it. It has just become part of who I am without me thinking about it.
I cleaned up the puddle of wee on the bathroom floor and plonked Amy into the bath. I sat down beside her in readiness to wash her hair, and realised I had sat in the ONE dribble of wee that I had missed cleaning up.
Typical.
I washed her hair, we played and I sat thinking.
Wow, this is who I am now. Here I am, sitting in a puddle of wee while my daughter examines herself using a toothbrush.
I absent-mindedly removed the toothbrush. I threw it in the basket to be microwaved later on. It wasn’t my toothbrush after all.
(What?! Microwaving does so remove the germs.)
Amy slithered around, let me soap the bottom of her feet and nothing else.
I think on.
I wonder how I do this day after day? It’s all the same really isn’t it? Lather rinse and repeat? Day after day. Will this eventually drive me mad? I don’t think so. But still, how did I, the anti-routine person, end up in such a predictable place?
SPLOOSH!
Amy tipped an entire container of water over me.
Predictable? HA!
Don’t make me laugh.


