My Two Writing Teachers colleagues and I are hosting the 15th Annual March Slice of Life Story Challenge, in which teachers from around the world participate by posting a story per day.
My son, Jackson, loves to take relaxing baths. He’s eight years old, but sometimes seems like a little old man trapped in a child’s body. At bath time last night, he filled the tub on his own and added some lavender bubble bath. I was in the hall putting away laundry when I heard the water stop, and Jackson stepped into the tub.
“Ahhhh this is the life,” he said to himself. “Alexa, play spa music,” he added. Sure enough, ambient relaxing spa sounds began to play. A flute playing along to a babbling brook and a whooshing breeze.
How does he even know what spa music is? I thought.
When I was eight years old, I hated taking baths. I hated washing my hair especially, and I hated being wet and cold afterward. I definitely didn’t know what a spa or spa music was.
If I’m being honest, I still kind of hate baths. And I can count the number of times I’ve been to a spa on one hand—all before my kids were born.
After a while, Jackson got out to the tub and emerged from the bathroom wearing his fuzzy bath robe that he got for Christmas, looking more like a little old man than ever.