Hooray! Bath time!

I sent the Fries upstairs after dinner to get ready for bathtime.  I told Hubby that I would handle baths if he would run to the store for milk, Dr Pepper, and Diet Pepsi (three staple drinks in this house).  Not that Hubby could really do baths anyway...first of all, now that the Fries are older, he'd prefer that I handle baths (which I haven't really done since my surgery), and secondly, we took him to the ER last Saturday because he thought that using a vegetable slicer without the handguard was a fabulous idea and sliced off a hunk of his thumb, and he's still got a dressing on it.

Small Fry in the tub, July 2008

So I went upstairs to chase down the now-naked Fries and Hubby went up to change clothes before heading to the store.

He was beset upon by three squealing, giggling, naked girls.

Hubby screamed like a girl and ran into our bedroom.

They gave chase.

Not only did they chase, they darn near tackled him on the bed.

I wished I had thought to bring the camera up with me, or my tablet, or something, because they giggled and shrieked and shouted "I'm gonna get you, Daddy!"

Hubby started patting heinies amid more squeals.

He covered his face with his hands when Small Fry started waving and wiggling her rear at him, and Large stood on the bed and bent in half, looking back at Hubby from between her legs and giggling.

Small Fry shrieked, "Tell Gwamma about dis, Mama!"

Before Hubby could die of embarrassment, I shooed the girls down the hall.  As I followed them, I grinned at Hubby and did my best to channel Inigo Montoya.  "There will be blogging tonight!"