“Why? Grandpa does.”
Jeremy stared with shark-like eyes at Rubber Duckie as it twirled in the water.
Coaxing the five-year-old to take his evening bath was a bigger problem than Grandma had anticipated. She tried a new approach.
“You played in the sandbox. Do you want to bring sand into your clean bed?”
“You have a washing machine?”
“Who works the washing machine, young man?”
“Grandma made pickles today. They had a water bath, didn’t they?”
Jeremy reflected. “They were inside jars you put in water.”
Grandma’s face lit up, flamed by the get-nowhere conversation. She sought help.
“Hey, you over there. How about minding your grandson while I take a bath?”
“What? I thought he was having one,” grunted Grandpa.
Once alone, Grandma poured in her favourite bath oil and entered the tub. She belted out lyrics to ‘Tiny Bubbles’ barely noticing knocking on the bathroom door.
“Yes?” she queried.
“Why are you happy taking a bath, Grandma?”
“I’m having fun splashing about in the bubbles.”
“Can I take a bubble bath with you?”