I have to bite down on my lip to hold back my laughter as Izzy makes the mermaids cheer enthusiastically from their seats in the clam shell bucket.
“What a show,” Izzy pronounces. “That hard to beat. But maybe seahorse do it.”
I grin at her. “Ten minutes, princess.”
“Okay, Jazz.”
My phone buzzes again and I grab it more out of habit than anything. Most of my focus is still on the bath; I really want to know whether the seahorse beats the orca.
Rolling my eyes at that ridiculous notion, I finally check the text.
Damon Forrester
So I guess if you’re watching your sister tonight there’s no chance of meeting up…
Igrinat the message, shaking my head. Fucking needy slut.
Me
Sorry dirty boy, I’m being a responsible caretaker tonight
Speaking of which, shouldn’t you be spending some quality time with Hansel and Gretel before they leave tomorrow?
Damon Forrester
We’ve spent most of the day together. They wanted to do their own thing tonight
“Oh no,” Izzy gasps, prompting me to glance up in alarm.
I let out a sigh of relief when I see the mermaids flapping about at Izzy’s command and realize the dramatic exclamation was part of her little role-play. “What a dahster.”
“I takeit the seahorse wasn’t a match for the orca?” I ask indulgently.
Izzy shakes her head morosely. “Crash and burned.”
My lips twitch at her use of the idiom; I’m not quite sure where she’s picked it up from but given her struggles with language it always amuses me when she casually draws on idioms in the correct context.
I’m tempted to ask to see a replay of the epic crash but I doubt she’d be able to easily replicate it and attempting would only frustrate her.
“Well, that’s too bad for the seahorse but now the show’s over I think it’s time to get out,” I tell her.
She shakes her head. “Not ten minutes.”
Frowning, I check my phone and see that she’s right. Damn it. “Fine. Five more minutes. But Izzy’sBathtub’s Got Talent is over so how about we do a swap?” I push myself off the toilet,crouching down to rummage through the bottom vanity drawer. Finally excavating a pack of bath crayons, I stand and turn around to lean over the bath. “I’ll take the toys and you can have the crayons.”
Her eyes light up and she nods eagerly. “Okay.” She quickly piles the toys back into the clam shell bucket and holds it up for me.
I offer an affectionate smile, proud that she didn’t need to be prompted. “Thanks, princess.” I take the bucket and set it on the floor next to the bath, then open the pack of crayons. “Do you want all of them or just pink and orange?”
“Pink and orange and green,” she says brightly.
I let out a soft laugh. “Alright, then.” I find the colors and hand them to her, then return to my perch on the toilet, watching affectionately as she scrawls all over the side of the tub.
It’s pretty clear once the final five minutes are up that the bath tea has done its job; Izzy has well and truly mellowed and, unlike last time, she doesn’t put up any kind of protest when I suggest getting out of the tub.
By the timeI have her tucked up in bed she can barely keep her eyes open, and not even the all-powerfulBlueyis captivating enough to keep her awake for an entire story. Considering it’s already close to forty-five minutes past her usual bedtime I’m taking this as a win.
I leave Izzy sleeping and head out to the living room, making a beeline for the sofa. Sinking onto it, I stretch my whole body out and get as comfortable as possible. Then I tug my phone from my pocket and send a text.
