Turning Tables

I LOVE hot showers.

Like really hot showers.

You know, like super steamy bathroom, red lobster skin hot shower.

And if I could, I would spend many many hours minutes in there.

Ahhh... Positively delightful.

Well, growing up, my Dad (for some unknown reason)

had an issue with my extensive blistering showers.

And on more than one occasion my water would suddenly turn ice cold.

How convenient for him, being a plumber and all.

It was harsh really.

It turns out he was concerned about something trivial like the water bill or something.

Well, as often happens, the tables turn.

And strangely enough my little Brooklyn loves really hot, really long showers.

And what do you know? 

Now that I'm paying the water bills, I find myself having a problem with Brooklyn's marathon showers.

Well, after repeatedly asking her to get out, my instincts kicked in.

I'm not as clever as my Dad
so I don't know how to make the water immediately go cold from other parts of the house,

so I just strolled in, stuck my arm in there and gave the knob a full turn.

She got the message.

I must admit that it was strangely satisfying.

As if I had found my place in the long line of parents who repeat their parent's form of child persuasion.

Here they are.  My parents.  Back in 1984.

And that there is 2 year old me.

Back when I was taking nice, long, hot baths.