Rich

Shortly after M was born my husband’s mom dug out of her storage room a big metal wash basin. It has some deep family history that I’ve forgotten. Three generations have bathed in this thing as babies? Four generations?

Anyway, the M had two baths in it last summer … one good (staring up at the leaves in the backyard and cooing) and one bad (screaming, me crying, both of us soaked, lots of grass clippings, no one especially clean or happy), and then it went unused for many months.

Today I got it out, threw in a few stacking cups and a toy watering can, let the hose run in it at a trickle, and turned the Monkey loose with it. She elected to sit IN the washtub, getting totally, totally soggy and thorougly enjoying the running water, the splashing, the general fun of being out in the backyard and all wet.

And I sat ten feet away and picked a big colander full of red currants, which were on the verge of being too ripe.

I chatter at the Monkey a lot during the day, but while we did this I was quiet and it felt like we were both content, just soaking in the colors and sensations of a not-too-humid midwestern summer day in the backyard.

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