Squeaky Clean

I think there may be differences in the way that my husband and I view cleanliness. Well, and other things too...say, color coordination...but that's a whole different post.

I'm a mom. The kids have to pass a detailed check-list to be declared "clean" when I'm in charge. The post-shower interrogation...I mean, interview...goes something like this:

Mom: Did you actually scrub? (you have no idea how pertinent this question is in my house)
Kid: Yes, Mom.
Mom: Did you move the shampoo around in your hair, or just dump and rinse?
Kid: There was movement, Mom.
Mom: Did you remember your feet?
Kid: Yes, Mom.
Mom: Your ears?
Kid: Yes, Mom.
Mom: Did you wash your *ahem*?
Kid: Yep, got that too.
Mom: OK, you pass inspection. Go get in bed. Next!

Things are a bit different when Dad's in charge. My husband graciously took care of the kids while I went to a women's conference this past weekend. He did a fantastic job (as always), including hosting extended family, attending a piano recital, and cleaning up the house. He's the best. Really. I think maybe he was just...tired...when shower time rolled around.

When I came home, my oldest daughter said to me, "Mommy, mommy, mommy! All THREE of us girls got to take a shower together!" "Really?" I said. Two is pretty common around here, but three...in a standard-sized shower stall? I looked at my husband, "Really? All three of them?" "Yep," he said. "They wanted to." I decided to inquire further, "Did they actually get clean in there, or just have a big party?"

And then, as though he were presenting sound scientific evidence in the case, my dear husband responded, "Well...they were wet when they came out."

Yeah. I rest my case. Mom's back, guys. Start scrubbin'!!