From time to time I take a break in the professional nature of this weblog to bring you a real-life story from the bowels of my family.
That is why I am taking this opportunity to tell you a story. It is a story that in any ordinary life might be an unstory. But here, listen anyway.
Last week Jenna and her 14-month-old near-brother ((she's changed his diaper and rocked him to sleep; I was there -- and I mean there -- when he was born)), who is the son of my friend, were eating dorritos. And I mean, NACHO CHEESE dorritos.
In fact, they were so cheesy by 7:00 that we stuck them in the jaccuzi, at which time the baby covered himself in bubbles and Jenna made him a dome-shape hat out of suds, then put a white beard on his chin. He screeched and threw suds at her. We watched and laughed. She even made headway in teaching him how to swim--it's a big, big jaccuzi.
In fact she had so much fun that she spoke out loud about it.
Which is all to say that I got a phone call this morning from my family telling me how wrong, immoral, unseemly, (keep going) it was for me to have put our 8 year old in the tub with a 14-month-old boy. "I mean, if she would have had underpants on or something, but even then..." "I'm just saying, it’s not right..."
I want you all to swish that around in your heads for a while.