Mommy's time.

The shower wasn't hot enough. Every minute or so, she would turn down the cold water just a little bit more and wait the few seconds it took for the water to feel hotter. And every time the water temperature rose, she smiled.

I can't believe it's come to this, she thought. And she smiled again at the simple absurdity of it; the shower when he was napping had become her favourite time of day. It used to be that a shower was something she just had to get done and she would rush her way through it on her way to more important things. But now the shower was the main event. She shook her head as she turned the cold water down a little more. Ah.

Don't think about laundry, don't think about groceries, don't think about supper. Her mantra. Just keep making it hotter until your skin is beet red and you can't see across the bathroom for the steam. Wash, rinse, repeat. Wash your face for five full minutes if that's what you want. Hotter.

She was almost finished, almost to the point where she couldn't turn the cold water down any further without it being just the hot, almost time to bury her face in that clean, fluffy towel. She would stand in the silent, steaming bathroom. Just stand there, as if recognizing a full minute of silence; respect for this most sacred of stolen moments. She reached for the taps.

A scream caught in her throat as she registered the clanging, clunking sound. She abandoned the taps, wheeled around and gaped at the green plastic boat sitting in the middle of the tub. She looked up comically, as if wondering if it had fallen from the ceiling and when she looked back down, she noticed a small, pudgy hand gripping the side of the tub. Of course. She slowly pulled back the curtain and smiled at her eleven-month old son. He was clad only in his diaper and was pulling himself up in order to peer into the tub. He made eye contact with her and broke out into a grin.

Well, this is what I get for letting you sleep on a mattress on the floor, she said. She could just imagine him crawling out of bed, past the unlatched doors and into the bathroom. He was always ready for a bath. He giggled, gurgled something unintelligible and reached for her. Oh, you think so, do you? She feigned a stern look and his face fell momentarily, then she smiled and he laughed and clapped his hands. She turned around and turned the cold back up until the water was an appropriate temperature.

Come on, then. She handed him his boat, unsnapped his diaper and let it fall to the floor. Then she scooped him up to hold him under the water as he chewed happily on his boat. But just this once; this is Mommy's time.