All Washed Up

Not very long ago, Mason used to lay down in the bathtub. Ah, those were the days when bathtime was easy. Now, he crawls around the tub, narrowly missing the sharp metal edge of the faucet with his delicate little head. He pulls all the shampoo bottles off their shelves, stands up on the edge of the bathtub, and hits the little knob that drains the water. When I try to wash his hair, he bobs all over the place... and ends up looking like this:


Good thing he doesn't mind the water in his face half as much as he minds me trying to hold him down.