The baby shampoo flows like honey onto his water-darkened hair as he stands plumply naked and gleaming in the tub. Then I massage it into his perfectly shaped little noggin, working up a good lather.
We have a ritual that he never forgets.
“Doo diss!” he commands pointing to the top of his sudsy head.
I twist his hair into a long, gooey spike sticking straight up like the piked helmet of some ancient warrior, and he shrieks with delight at his silly reflection in the mirror across from the tub.
It looks exactly the same every time, but he always laughs as if he’d never, ever seen such a sight before!