Water Boy
More than any kid in the universe, Lukas hates taking a bath. I guess it cuts into the precious time he needs to take apart and methodically destroy everything in our house that possesses a microchip. Lately, he's been faking his baths by just hanging out in the bathroom doing nothing for 30 minutes. If he were already a teen stud, I'd have an inkling of what he'd be doing instead of bathing, but he's an extremely prepubescent 12 year old, so he's probably just picking the lint out of his belly button--new standards for cleanliness, I guess. The other day, it was more like an hour. In fact, I had forgotten all about his bath until I heard sounds that conjured up sounds of a waterfall deep in the lush tropical rainforest of the Dominican Republic. After that lull, I snapped myself into whatever questionable level of awareness I ordinarily inhabit and realize, 'we're in Houston, Texas, man! Ain't no dad blasted waterfall here, I don't care how humid it gets here.' Rune, of course, is the first to respond to my eldest daughter's comments ('Um, what's that weird sound?') Her ability to conduct armchair crisis intervention is unrivaled. So Rune does his "panic walk"--arms stiff and out about 12 inches from his side, body pressed forward 30 degrees, stride like a bowlegged elephant). The object of his panic: a flood of water pouring over the balcony and through my bathroom ceiling to the first floor from the overflowing bathtub Lukas forgot to attend to. My thoughts: 'maybe if I wait long enough, this irate elephant will clean up the mess.' Rune was pretty impressive banging down the locked door, turning off the faucets and diving for the largest wad of bathtowels he could find to clean up. I was so mesmerized I briefly fantasized about contacting the Olympic Committee to see if they might consider it a new event.
Anyway, the whole water phobia puzzles me, because when he was still in diapers and then Pullups, Lukas loved water. He'd drag a chair to the kitchen sink, crawl up, turn on the cold water and create various waterparks with cups, saucers, and small animals trembling in fear. Same thing with the garden hose outside. This activity would captivate him for several hours. Why would you let your kid do that? you might ask. Sure, the water bills exceeded our mortgage payments for a while, but a captivated Lukas is a happy Lukas--something we fought long and hard to achieve in his early moodier years. Hey, better trembling small animals than trembling parent!
