The bathtub and I have a love/hate relationship. Love because on the third Sunday of every month, it is the provider of delicious bits of cheese. Hate because on the third Sunday of every month, it is the provider of soapy fingers in my ears.
When I think back on my bathtub experiences, it’s all a blur. One minute I’m following a trail of Colby-Jack into a glorious cavern of white porcelain, and the next I’m being swept away in a blanket – wrapped-up and shivering like someone watching their house burn down from the back bumper of a fire truck.
Now I don’t mind the cheese and the blanket (or even the scrub-a-dub-dubbin’). But I do mind when people stick their little sausage fingers in my ears!!! As you can see, my ears are pretty big. And just as sensitive. If you were to draw a graph of my ear sensitivity v. how big they are, it would be a big flippin’ graph. Get the picture?
So bathe me all you want. I’ll gladly trade a little self-respect for some tasty cheese nibbles. But please leave my ears out of it. C’mon – what did they do to you?? (Besides that one time)