I love my children.
But some nights — especially Thursday nights (the Israeli equivalent of Friday night) — I’d rather be out at a swanky city bar with friends on my way to a Friday morning hangover than hovering over the bathtub trying to convince a screaming five year old that I have not even put shampoo in her hair yet, let alone allow it to stream into her eyeballs.
On nights like these, I am thankful for my remaining sense of humor.
So I could finish washing the dishes in peace, I told my daughter she could go to her room and pick out five Playmobil figures to bring in the bath with her.
(Washing the dishes in peace is my sad sorry pleasure on this particular Thursday night.)
When I met her in the bathroom, this is what I found.
I call it:
“The UN Daycare Field Trip to My Bathroom”
And have a Cosmopolitan for me!