I go back to November all the time.

This morning my wife was having a conversation with Benjamin, at which point she asked (as only a mother of three boys, including a six-week-old, could), “When is the last time you’ve had a bath?”

“Well, last November I think, but that’s really not too long.”

Wow, I’m just glad he was being interviewed by his mother and not a child services worker. This highlights a few things. First, Benjamin is completely unaware of any concept of time. Like last Sunday when he asked how long we had until leaving for church and my wife replied “Five minutes.” He thought for a second and then said, “Good. So I have enough time to put on my Spider-Man costume and play around for awhile?” Uh, no Jolly Roger, you don’t. Get in the car; let’s go.

Second, and probably most obviously, cleanliness means next to nothing to a four-year-old boy. Eat sand, roll around in the mud, track it in the house, and climb in bed without even knocking off the clods of dirt from your feet—why not? This tragic habit must be curbed, I have decided. Otherwise he’ll end up like me in college, throwing away his freshman year sheets instead of washing them because they flew solo on that bed, without rest, for the entire year. No bueno.

Apparently when it comes to bath time Benjamin is a bit like Taylor Swift—he goes back to November all the time.


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