Bathtime Without Benefits

This

plus this

                                                                                                             

equals this.

Bathtime.

For the youngest member of a family of 11 and in the year 1931, this meant much heating of water at the kitchen stove.

Hauling of said water to the washroom.

Filling of the washtub.

Then relaxing in deliciously hot water.

The best part of the week for my dad.

On this particular occasion, though, Dad’s bathtime would include something unexpected.

And definitely unwanted.

A visitor.

As he was sitting back, enjoying his few moments of bliss, something small flew in through the open transom over the door.

It did a couple of circuits around the room as the little boy in the bathtub watched, wide-eyed.

Finally, it lit on the sheer curtains on the small window high up on the outside wall and folded its wings.

Resolving into something small . . . and furry.

A bat.

The two regarded each other for a few breathless moments.

Then, eyes glued to his visitor, dad did the “quickest washing job of my life”, wrapped a towel around his little, naked body and found the nearest far-away place.

One of his older brothers went back in to take care of the unusual – and totally unwanted – bathtime visitor, and all was well.

From then on, however, when Dad took his bath, his preparations included filling the tub.

And closing the transom.

Then keeping his eyes carefully trained upward as he performed a quick wash.

And got out of the room.

Hmmm.

I wonder if the introduction of a bat into bathtime would shorten the length of some of my teenagers’ showers.

Just a thought . . .