As I begin running the bath water at 7:40pm each night, she's predictable.
She barrels toward the bathroom crawling at full speed, her tiny body hurtling toward the bathtub like her tush is on fire.
It's like how the dog starts drooling and acting ridiculous when I open the pantry where his treats are.
It's all I can do to get her to stand still for long enough to remove her clothing.
It's as though she wants to be baptized by the waters while wearing her clothes.
This kid loves taking baths more than anything. She's my Natalie Coughlin.
When she inevitably starts to rub her tired eyes, I pull the plug. You should see the stink-eye I get for that each night.
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