Hygiene

Most three-year-olds that I know love to take baths, but are luke warm (at best) about showers. Riley, on the other hand, LOVES showers, which is ironic (yes, Casey, I'm sure I'm using that word wrong) considering the fact that he HATED showers for the first few years of his existence. We used to make him shower after a day at the pool and you would've thought we were torturing him. Lots of squirming and screaming and tears. And then a cold, rainy day of "surfing" in Maine happened.

As previously mentioned, Riley, Chase, the dogs and I spent a week alone in Maine this past summer. Riley had recently turned three and Chase was about 6 weeks old. To say that being a single mom for that week was a bit exhausting is an understatement, but being in Maine is absolutely amazing and Casey and I wanted that experience for the boys. Besides, the theory was that I could take Riley, Chase and the dogs to the beach all day and it really wouldn't be that hard -- Riley and the dogs could run free while I supervised them and hung out with Chase. Great theory... until the torrential downpour and chilly temperatures hit one morning. Unwilling to stay inside (and possibly lose my sanity), I put Riley in his wetsuit, Chase in about one hundred layers and bundled myself up in a bright (and I do mean bright) yellow rain slicker that I found in the closet. Turned out to be one of the most memorable days of our trip. The dogs couldn't care less if it's raining -- Wrigley still chased the ball for ours and Winston still sprawled on the ground at my feet. Chase and I (and Winston) sat in the garage snapping a million pictures (my form of sanity). Riley, in his wetsuit, "surfed" for HOURS in the driveway -- on a skim board, a foam board, a stack of boogie boards, whatever he could find. And he had a BALL!!! I have so many fantastic pictures of him from that day that it will forever be etched in my memory.

When he eventually tired of surfing, the five of us went down to the beach -- the dogs off leash, Riley running way ahead, and Chase strapped to my chest in the Baby Bjorn (underneath the bright yellow rain slicker -- he was dry as could be). The dogs swam in the angry surf, Riley and I jumped waves, and Chase (still strapped to my chest warm and dry underneath the rain slicker) slept contentedly. It was awesomely fun. And did I mention COLD???

Which is how we get back to the topic of showers. After a full day in the cold, wet elements, Riley asked if he could take a bath (who could blame him). By this point, I needed to start making dinner, so an immediate bath was out of the question. I suggested a shower instead. He gave me a very skeptical look, but agreed. I put him in the downstairs shower which is immediately adjacent to the kitchen and started boiling the water for dinner. 10 minutes later, the water was boiling but Riley was not ready to get out of the shower (in his defense, this shower, although completely the opposite of fancy, has got to be the most amazing shower in the world -- not sure if it's the water pressure or the hot water compared to the somewhat chilly temperatures outside (the cottage in Maine is not really heated) or a combination of the two or something else entirely). So I put the pasta in the water. 10 minutes later the pasta was ready, but Riley still was not ready to get out of the shower. I swear he was in that shower for what felt like 45 minutes. Who knows, but this is when his love affair with long, hot showers began.

I was reminded of that this morning. For whatever reason, he decided that he wanted to take a shower before school. He won't allow me to stay in the same room as him while he showers anymore -- "I want some privacy" (yes, he really says that) -- so our compromise for safety's sake is that he has to talk to me the entire time. So I spent my morning getting ready for work while Riley narrated the ENTIRE Red Sox game from the previous night by memory. I perhaps know more about David Ross and Will Middlebrooks and Shane Victorino than the average person, but I wouldn't have it any other way.