And this doesn’t even include all the times I’m in the shower and my children suddenly discover they need me to negotiate a critical cease-fire or solve a burning dilemma like whether or not lizards have eyelids immediately. Which means if either my husband or I are in the shower and a kid’s got to go–the kid’s got to go, everyone’s modesty be damned. In a household with five people and one and a half bathrooms, sharing is a must. ![]() They also, up until a year ago, shared a single bedroom, which meant plenty of running around in various states of undress and, periodically, re-enactments of the stripping scene from the musical “Gypsy,” while singing “You’ve Got to Have a Gimmick.” (My 12-year-old son now prefers manly showers but, every once in a while, all three of them still jump in.) ![]() They’ve been taking baths together since she was old enough to sit up in the big tub without drowning.
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