We recently went on a vacation. An honest-to-god, travel-someplace-else vacation. With the kids. In Costa Rica.
I’m not going to tell you about the rainforest or the dolphins or the blue morpho. I’m not even going to tell you about the monkeys playing over my head for fifteen minutes while I lay in a hammock. OK, I just told you about that.
What I’d like to tell you about is the bathroom.
Lilah was first into the water closed. “Mom,” she yelled. “How do you turn on the sink?”
My husband was unpacking toothbrushes. “The sink is out here. Mom will explain that to you later.”
Half an hour later, Benjamin went into the toilet, exclaiming, “Is that a baby bath?!”
His brother ran in to look. “Can I pee in it? Is it a sink?”
“No, guys,” I replied, explaining what the mystery item was.
“What do you use it for?”
“For when you go to the bathroom,” I explained. “And you wish to wash your nether regions.”