I think Throwback Thursdays and Top Ten Thursdays may become an alternating week thing, since I have so many hilarious early posts that I want my new readers to see.
So this week I’m taking the opportunity to embarrass my husband to all his new vet school friends, because that’s what loving wives do, right? At any rate, this story has already been on the internet since July 17, 2012, so it’s not like he doesn’t know it exists. (And yes, he did read it before it was originally posted and said it was ok to share.)
My husband can stand in the sun for ten minutes and come back inside looking like an Indian. Every woman in the country is jealous. But a few weeks ago, he spent two days working out on Kentucky Lake and came home with a terrible sunburn.
And by that I mean he looked like he’d been dipped in red paint from his waist to his chin.
About a week of aloe cream later (which his wonderful wife had to apply, I might add) he’d started to revert to his normal golden brown. But now he is peeling (Gross!). Peeling also means itchy, and there’s no way in the world I’m scratching his back and getting that stuff all over my hands. So last night I had him soak in a warm bath, expecting this would bring some relief. It did help, but what I had not anticipated was the effect taking a bath would have on a young twenty-something.
“Can I have my rubber ducky?” a small voice asked me from the tub. (We have bride and groom ducks someone gave us at the wedding.)
“Sure honey,” I replied, tossing both ducks into the tub with my now-splashing husband.
I had forgotten how rubber ducks make gassy noises when you squeeze them underwater, and our bathroom was soon filled with the giggles of a typical boy. I, sitting on the toilet seat watching his antics, heard something smack into the trashcan.
“What was that?” I asked, turning around.
Warm water hit me hard on the leg, creating the feeling of having wet myself.
I had also forgotten that rubber ducks squirt water out their beaks.
After about five minutes of “practicing” his aim, the mister had successfully gotten water all over the towels, rug, ceiling and me. He says his aim wasn’t getting any better, but I’d wager he was right on target every time.
But water doesn’t just come out the duck’s beak. It also leaks out the bottom.
“Duck pee!” a delighted boy shouted as he put the rubber animal on my jeans and watched the water spread. . .
Right before I turned the cold shower nozzle on him.
I really should have left the bathroom long before this, but it was all too much fun. And I would have missed the rubber ducky song, which was beyond priceless. I’m sure our neighbors upstairs enjoyed the serenade.
This all just goes to show that no matter how mature a man may seem for his age, all he needs is a rubber bath toy and it’s all downhill from there.