bath hair

post-bath naked nap

Little Reed, I love giving you baths.  And not because I particularly like washing your slippery little body while you cry and cry.  But because I love wrapping you in a warm blanket and watching your hair dry.

Oh, I love your hair after you take a bath.  I stare at your hair so much that when my own hair falls in front of my eyes as I gaze down at you, it looks completely foreign to me.  So thick and coarse.  It can’t be mine.  It must be the hair of some other creature.  Maybe a horse.

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