Every night we pretty much have the same routine. Randy walks in the door from work at about 5:30, we sit down and eat dinner and then afterwards it's bath time for the kiddos. Randy drew the short straw tonight which meant that he had to bathe the kids while I cleaned up the kitchen and got Maren's meds ready.
Most nights bath time is not too bad. Henry is generally a spaz and unfortunately nudity and water amplify his spastic tendencies. Because of this, overseeing bath time can be kind of fun or really, really annoying-- depending on your mood. Apparently Randy leaned a little to the "bad mood" side of the scale tonight.
I'm in the kitchen cleaning up, which is connected to the bathroom. I'm not really paying attention to their conversation, but after a few minutes of good bath time fun, I can tell that Randy's patience is wearing thin. The frustration builds to a point where it kind of explodes. I tuned into the conversation in time to hear Randy slowly say in a low and deliberate tone, "Henry, wash - the - soap - out - of - your - damn - hair!" Henry mimicked Randy's tone and said, "I - have - to - wash - my - DAMN - ARMPITS!"
Just a little history-- Randy's favorite word in the English language is "damn." He'll put it in front of anything to accentuate his frustration-- even if it doesn't make sense:
"I damn hate DC drivers!"
"What the damn hell was that damn idiot thinking?! Damn it!"
"Damn, damn, damn!"
Anyway, I never heard a reply from Randy. Not wanting Henry's language to go unchecked, I headed into the bathroom only to find Randy ducking beside the tub, practically kissing the ground with his hands over his face to "hide" his uncontrollable laughter. Maren looks at me totally confused and then leans her little body over to try and peer over the edge of the tub at her crazy dad, balled up and shaking on the floor. I took a deep breath and tried as hard as I could to correct Henry without laughing... I failed.
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