I don’t know what you’re up to this fine Saturday morning, but I just got done giving grandma a shower. Just take a moment to picture one 32 year old mother of two and one 84 year old WWII survivor splashing and sudsing in a tiled shower together.
If you just threw up in your mouth a little, then I’m sorry.
If you didn’t, then you have a stomach made of steel. And you should really get that checked out.
It was an impromptu shower, not because grandma doesn’t get bathed regularly (is there such a thing as Geriatric Protective Services, because if so, she does get bathed regularly) but because it isn’t always me that does it but today it was and really, I don’t mind giving her a scrub down once in a while because the woman has endured more than her share of bullhonkey from me, her oldest grandchild. In fact, it started when I as a baby and laying on my tummy, just minding my own business. I was adorable, of course, especially in the keister region, and she came in for a kiss and to thank her for her hospitality, I pooped in her face. And I proceeded to give her sh#$ well into my early twenties.
So if I can undo some of that “crap” by giving her a once over with a detachable shower head and having the courtesy to dry her off and style her hair, then by all means,
bring on the soap on a rope.