I’ve been to some wet and wild bikini parties in my time but none so enjoyable as the one I just attended with my 4 year old, in our bathtub. Sec spends most of her time these days pretending she’s a mermaid in the tub and tonight, I decided what the hell? If you can’t beat 'em, join 'em. We both put on pink bikinis and set to soaking. I did the unthinkable and read a grown-up book and in order to insure she wouldn’t splash my work of literature, I gave her free reign with the shaving cream. I’ve been holding out on the shaving cream play sensing that one day I’d really need that ace in the hole and it delivered, buying me a good 30 minutes of tub reading while Sec slathered everything in what she called “whipped cream.” Occasionally, overcome by feeling, she’d exclaim, “OH WE ARE SO BEAUTIFUL!!!!”
Primo was intrigued by the noise and within minutes was in the tub, too, a tight fit for a relaxing soak. Then Sec got out and Primo took over the lets-use-all-the-shaving-cream game, only he wanted me to read him my book out loud, the which I did, instructing Primo on the elusive art of personal narrative writing, according to Vivian Gornick. He was very interested in the memoir of Thomas DeQuincey though puzzled somewhat because I had to excise every allusion to opium, rendering the chapter a string of words that made no sense.
When David came home, he found us all in our bathing suits and the shaving cream can empty, while the house looked like a tornado had hit it. That guy misses all the fun.
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