If you don’t count Princess, Perfect, Piper, Lightning and Sando, this place is chock full of boys. Boy books on armadillos and boy building games and muddy boy shoes and Star Wars boy toothbrushes. Now I’m not a big shopper, but I like a sunny afternoon wandering through cute shops looking at girlie stuff just as much as the next girl. So I didn’t exactly expect a rave response when I floated the following idea while eating barbecue at a lunch place featuring pig decor and oil can pendant lights.
“Hey guys, wanna go to the bathtub store with me after this?”
This was my persuasive attempt at getting some takers to visit the luxe, homemade beauty products store across the street called Lush.
The whining and moaning were piled as high as pulled pork. Somehow we still made it up the steps and into the shop.
A buffet of expensive, colorful delights greeted us on every table. The engaging young associate let us dissolve $8 bath bombs in warm water, reveling in fizzy bathing chemistry magic. We sampled and smelled all kinds of fruity ice cream shaped accoutrement, glittery jams and sparkling jellies. Nate had dust sprinkling his nose from smelling the many fanciful baubles. I’d gone in wanting to buy a couple of bath bombs to display in a glass jar in the new bathroom in the barn. A little something pretty to help erase the ugly memories of incompetent contractors.
I find myself at the cashier’s counter, purchasing $50 worth of bath bombs and gels and other luxuries piled-up by the anti-bathtub store gang that begrudgingly followed me into this Ugh-Nooooo-Mom-this-is-the-worst-idea-ever-why-do-we-always-have-to-only-do-things-you-want-to-do store. We ended up with three delicious smelling bath bombs I picked out, a “slime” bomb the associate recommended, a two part bomb shaped like a chicken hatching out of an egg, and two things James slipped in. The front desk associate gave me a sample of Happy Hippy Shower Gel because I like citrus. Apparently you can take the girl out of Santa Cruz…
So the boys have been reveling in their outrageous $8 baths in the barn.
Last weekend I decided I’d better enjoy one of these luxurious, cost-prohibitive baths in our new barn bathtub before the bath bomb cupboard is bare. I choose a frothy white scoop of creamsicle bliss.
Meanwhile, as I’m soaking away my worries… Stormy Daniels’ lawyer is photobombing Kellyanne Conway at a DC gala.
The barn bathtub has a stunning view. It’s luxuriously deep and peaceful and a world away from Star Wars toothbrushes. I hear something suspicious. Is that the sound of footsteps slap-slapping up the steps? Two mischievous little people show-up solely in their little muddy Crocs and hooded towels.
My peace and quiet?
Bathbombed.