The Yoga of Bath Time

Yoga in action tonight. I’m usually very resistant to giving Genny a bath. It’s such a big production, makes the night drag on longer, and generally leads to my frustration.

Tonight, I asked Genny if she wanted me to bathe with her, which of course, she did.

And I don’t know how or why, except to say that all the yoga of staying in the present moment must really be paying off. I kept returning myself to the moment of bath time, of fun, of splashing, and playing. I did not worry or even think about all the student papers I need to read or the letters I need to write.

I just played. And splashed. And it’s amazing what a fun time I had. And Genny didn’t get cranky or have any tantrums either. I know she sensed the difference in me. She told me that I was her cat. I meowed.

After her bath, sitting on her potty, she noticed her veins on her inner wrists for the first time.

“Mommy, did someone draw on me?”

“No, Honey. Those are your veins that carry blood through your body,” I said. “Look, I have them, too.”

“Someone wrote on you, too?”

“No, this is the blood that runs through our bodies. Keeps us healthy. Brings oxygen to all our body.”

“And we have blood in our ninas, too?”

“Yes, but that’s a little bit different.”

“And in our tushies? And in all our body?” Genny rubbed her hand across her round belly.

“Yes,” I said.

Then, when we were snuggled into her bed, she turned to me and said, “Mommy, I really like you.”

“I really like you, too.”

“You’re my kitty-kat, Mommy. And I miss Lula.”

“I miss her, too,” I said.

Genny rolled over onto her side, slipped her two fingers into her mouth, and rubbed her nose.