Dear Taylor, I'm Sorry. But...

Squeaky clean.

6 weeks is long enough without a bath, you stinkin' hippie. It's about time you start practicing acceptable personal hygiene, like the rest of the civilized world. Don't get me wrong son, I'm all about personal expression and marching to the beat of YOUR OWN drum and damn the man and all that, but the honest truth is, and I'm sorry to burst your bubble, but smelling like you just got off of a 27-date summer Phish tour isn't going to win you many things in life. See, there's this thing called "society" and over the few hundred years of this society's existence, the people have established certain "norms". In other words, things that you're expected to do, without question, to be considered a productive and valuable member of said society. Good personal hygiene is the most important, yet easiest thing that society will demand of you. Because you never get a second chance to make a first impression.

She said the other "B" word.

Anyway, enough Sociology for the day. This is a big day for you. You're getting your first bath! Remember how hard you tried to get out of the warm, wet stuff in your mommy's belly? Well guess what? You're going back into it. Sort of.

If you weren't so damn long we could continue to wash you down on the cute little froggy mat thingy we've used a few times since you were born, but since you've outgrown that already, I'm afraid we're gonna have to break out the actual baby tub.

Don't worry, only your feet will be in the water, and I'm sure you'll kick around enough to keep them from even touching it too often. And I'll make sure the temperature is just right. Aren't you glad we waited until a nice and warm sunny day here in mid-December Southern CA (don't get too used to it son...but that's for another post)? Always with your best interests in mind, bud.


So, are you ready? Good. In you go!

Oh. Oh my. You're not enjoying this are you? Is the water too cold? Too warm? Are you too naked? Too wet? Too clean?

Poor little man. Today was probably the most stressful 15 minutes of his life thus far (post-birth). It certainly didn't help that I prolonged the process by not securely latching the tub together, allowing the first gallon of water to leak out all over the kitchen floor. Ahh...live and learn, right?

But we took care of business, washing his little feet and legs and arms and hands. Softly scrubbing his little face and scalp and neck and butt.

And then out he came and as mommy quickly wrapped him in his little hooded towel, the crying stopped and all was well again. You don't hate us, right?

As painful as it was to listen to him scream at decibels I didn't think reachable by 6-week old vocal chords, it's sort of satisfying to cross off another milestone of sorts. I mean, there's only one first bath right? I sure as shit hope so. Not sure I could do that again.