bubble bath

The black handle of a small mirror slipped from his hand and crashed onto the hard tile floor. He looked up expectantly, shards of glass now surrounding him. His mother looked over from the computer table where she sat. "Sorry, my dear boy! It's a rough go being only two and a half, but you've just signed yourself up for seven years of horrid luck! Well, carry on!"



Having bubbles on hand do wonders at getting a small boy into the bath. Not so much for the sake of the bath, because he likes those. No, it's more for the opportunity of getting him out of his diaper, well used after a night's sleep, and into another one. Hooray for the bubble bath!

He did break a mirror this morning as well. I'm not British, though, so the above paragraph really has nothing to do with my life, except for the small boy and the broken mirror. But I'm hoping the bubble bath neutralizes the bad luck. I'm pretty sure it will. It wasn't a bad break. Easy to clean up and all.

Although his sister was quite disappointed, as the mirror was hers. The cure for such disappointment? Yes, I think it must be: bubble bath.