I love bathtime!

Since the doctor's appointment the other day, I'm cleared to take regular baths (as opposed to showers, which I abhor), and my new favorite thing to do with you is bathtime. We have a baby bathtub. It's sort of fancy, with its own little drain and it folds up for convenient storage (which is a nice idea but doesn't work, so it is hanging up on the wall), and it's baby sized; but even a baby sized bathtub is a pretty big bathtub for a newborn, and we've only used it once. When we did use it, you absolutely HATED it, and I don't blame you! I hated it too. Your dad and I were all hunched over, trying to keep you upright with only our hands. It was kind of scary for us! But that's all over now. Last night, I took you into the bathtub with me and had you up to your chest in warm water. You loved it and made all kinds of cherubic faces and sounds; and me, well, I fell even deeper in love. I even did the unthinkable. I had your dad take your picture. Yes, yes, I'm generally opposed to full-frontal naked baby photos. I know that they haunt children as grown ups. I'm particularly reminded by the fully naked photo of your dad that your grandfather (GB) brought to our rehearsal dinner the night before our wedding (God only knows why) and showing around to every person there. I tell myself I'm not that bad because we gave you a little fig leaf protection with a washcloth. Why did I insist on that photo? I've clearly been bitten by whatever delusion it is that prompts other parents to photograph their naked children. Well, whatever. It was really, really sweet. I don't care what I thought before I was a mom.