My quiet time is sacred. It's also rare. It's usually spent in my garden tub, lights dimmed, candles lit and bubbles abundant. My children generally are not permitted to use my tub. It's my highly valued place where I can be alone and shut out the world.
Sidney took a bubble bath in my tub (initially unbeknownst to me) to relieve some of her post-op woes. I'm sure it seemed like a good idea and a nice thing to do for her since she had a miserable evening, but that's a sacred place. My sacred place.
As I was rinsing off this very soapy and limp child who resembelled a pathetic rag doll, her stomach started to erupt. "Mommy, my stomach feels bad!" This sentence was followed with an all-out gut explosion...all over my sacred place.
I guess this is why Clorox wipes are made.
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