BD is 31 years old. Some people might even consider him a grown adult. I am not included in "some people." Case in point. Last night he took BB upstairs to give him a bath. I didn't even have to ask him so he gets extra points for that. By the way, no one ever asks me to bathe BB?? Hmm. I just assume the parental role and get it done. But then again, I do have a vagina, and BD does not. There must be some sort of penis chemical receptor that blocks common parental duties from men's brains. I digress.
So he takes BB upstairs and I hear splashing around. Good, I think to myself, he is actually going to give him a bath and I can relax! That's what I get for thinking. After about fifteen minutes I go upstairs to get ready for bed and he is getting BB out of the tub. I notice his hair isn't wet. I don't see the soap anywhere. I sigh and ask a question that you should never have to ask your adult husband.
"Did you use soap?"
"Well, no, but I rubbed bubbles on him."
"You have got to be shitting me. I shouldn't have to ask you to use soap when you bathe him! You are a grown man for God's sake!"
"Well he didn't play outside today because it was raining, and it's not even my night to bathe him."
I could feel the vein protruding from my forehead. I was chanting in my head...choose your battles, choose your battles, choose your battles....
I walked out of the bathroom and didn't say another word about it even though I was fuming. Until this morning. Apparently having a vagina also means you lack the ability to let things go. He was brushing his teeth and shaked his wanker at me...his normal morning routine. And apparently I was still mad about last night because I looked at him and screamed "Do you know how many times I've bathed him when it wasn't my night?!?!" He gave me that whoa-you-just-went-all-crazy-bitch-on-me stare, and then all was good. I'm over it. Until it happens again. And I can assure you it will happen again.
All I have to say is that man is lucky he is so pretty.