Bath time is daddy’s time, my hubby comes home from work and part of our evening routine is for him to bath baby P and get her ready for bed before I feed her and she goes down for (hopefully) the night.

He loves this time as does our little missy. It’s their time, just them, their daily ritual and bonding time. Especially as he’s been at work everyday during the week this makes up for that time apart from her and gives me a nice daily opportunity to de-baby for a little bit.

We started this from very early on and decided that as I was breastfeeding it was a good way for Daddy to feel more involved, connected and useful in baby P’s life. It’s a very precious thing for my husband and if for any reason I suggested it’s skipped, I do it or he’s not going to be around (yes, believe it or not he was concerned about missing bath time due to his work’s Christmas do!!) he gets rather upset and vocal about it being his job and time with our madam.

So every evening I leave them to it, he goes up to set things up (it’s like a military operation) he turns on the tv in our room putting on one of his favourite Attenborough documentary’s as a soundtrack to the evening, chooses her bedtime clothes and lays them out on our bed, runs the bath and then collects P from me.

The thing is, I love ear wigging. I enjoy being a fly on the wall and hearing them interact. It’s lovely to hear him chat to her, reciting the same little phrases, “let’s have a splishy splashy!” and “wash your handies and tickle your toes” which is responded to with her gurgles and squeals. He chats to her about the documentary as he puts baby lotion on her, whispering and dimming the lights because he wants her to settle and “shush” for the night. It’s their own little bubble and for that short daily period of time I don’t exist.

On occasion I’ve joined in bathtime, watching on the sidelines, splishy splashing a little with them and chatting along too but it’s not the same. I’m an intruder, not in a bad way but I break the routine, my presence alters things, I can’t exactly describe how but I do, it sounds…different.

So I’m preferring to remain a fly on the wall, grabbing a sneaky peep and eaves dropping on their time. I like it that way though, it’s their time together and I can take enjoyment out of my daughter relishing in being daddy’s girl for a bit.

One thought on “A fly on the wall…

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