There are two kinds of people in the world…
those who use a washcloth and those who don’t.
I am the latter.
If you are one of the washcloth people, you just audibly gasped in horror and then looked up to the upper right corner of my blog and muttered, “but she looks so clean in pictures.”
I know you people.
I married one.
Washcloth people are passionate about their washcloth-loving ways. They have an elaborate system of cleanliness that often includes more than one cloth…maybe even a loofah.
They see the non-users as un-enlightened, un-informed, un-washed.
Yes, I said it. You washcloth people look at the rest of us as the unwashed masses.
How can you get clean?
What do you have against the washcloth?
Why even bother taking a bath?
It is a choice. I don’t feel like I need to defend it. I don’t need to be confined by a small square of terry cloth.
Because I have been in charge of the baths of minors within the household, all three of my boys bathe sans-cloth.
They will have to attend years of bathing regression therapy to overcome my shortcomings.
Last week we were on vacation. In a nice hotel. Surrounded by lots of linens.
Blog-Stedman had bath duty with Rhett(5) several nights in a row. I didn’t even consider the possible side-effects when I agreed to this arrangement until last night when I helped Rhett with his bath for the first time back at home.
Mommy, I need one of those little towels that you get wet to scrub my face and the inside of both of my ears.
Now he is one of them.