bathtime with Bennett

As I was going through some of the pictures I had uploaded, intending to use them for blogs, I realized two things: one, I am woefully behind and shall never properly catch up. two, Bennett already looks so much older and less like a baby from these pictures (sobsob, sniffsniff), which were taken maybe three months ago. So, yes, these are old pictures, in baby-time (they grow and change much too quickly)... but I want to use them anyway, because bathtime with him as a baby is one of those things that I want to remember and be able to look back upon here on this blog o' mine.

 

(please pardon the fact that these are all different colors and styles, and all a bit blurry. I just happened to have my phone in there with me, and wasn't about to leave the room for a minute in order to get my better camera, even though our bathroom lighting is less than perfect for phone pictures. Safety first!)

 

This boy loves his bath. Something about being in the water makes him so happy. Silly. Gleeful.

 There are nights when I really can't help but feel like giving him a bath is the last thing I want to do... I'm tired, I'm done, I'm just ready for all the kids to be in bed, it's been a long day. And I'll be honest, he doesn't have a bath every night. But some nights, he desperately needs one (boys, even little boys, can be so dirty and stinky!), and so I'm left with no choice. Into the tub he goes.

 

The really wonderful thing is that as soon as his little bum hits that water and he begins to splash and play and chew on toys and washcloths, I find myself loving bathtime just as much as him. 

 

 

No worries, no cares, no exhaustion, just lots of smiles and giggles and noisy yells of delight (his, not mine). He slaps and splashes the water, he stands up by the edge and we play peekaboo. He gasps and then grins as I pour water over his head, I grin at the sight of his chubby roly-poly thighs and adorable baby bum. (he's really going to love this blog someday, isn't he? Sorry, son.)

 

My very favorite part of bathtime is when I take him out and wrap him in his big blue polka-dot towel, and he snuggles up to my shoulder as I carry him out of the bathroom, his face peeking out from the hood like some little parka-wearing eskimo, his eyelashes still wet and dark, his skin smelling of baby wash. Is there anything more wonderful-smelling than a freshly-bathed baby? I maintain that there is not.

 

 Someday, probably all too soon, he won't be a baby anymore and baths like this will cease to exist. So, until that day, I will enjoy every splash and smile in the tub, even at the end of a long day.

Bathtime with Bennett. It's another one of those funny little things that's good for the soul. :)