From Running Shoes to Slippers

Once in awhile, God stops me midstride and forces me to turn my running shoes into bedroom slippers. To do lists wait, messes pile, and I must sit. With a pounding top heavy head and half open eyes, I slide into the tub, hoping the mint scented bubbles will ease the pain, the weariness enough that I might keep Sunshine occupied for an hour. I close my eyes. I can't move. Suddenly I feel a plop beside me, I open my eyes a crack and find a bath buddy. "If you ever need me, just call. I'll aways be dare." She turns on the jets and begins to wash me. "I'm youw suvant." I then get the most thourough cleaning of my life. My hair, which I was going to leave gets washed, massaged, and rinsed. I get a bubble outfit. I get a rat (plastic one) continually removed from my tub. "I can speak with animals and so I know his name. No more baths for you!" Then it sneaks in again.

Finally, with prune fingers and toes we leave our bubbly playground. We each get a pumpkin smelling lotion and lather it on. When my buddy's feet shine with body creme, we know we are done.

I am moving down to lay on the sofa. I hope I can keep my eyes open. But happily, I've discovered that Sunshine may even like the slippered mom even better than the one in running shoes.