Satisfactory
Does the job...
Bathmat and rug
Lying naked in the bath.
I think that's why we love children so much. They are unblemished detonations of perfect experience unencumbered by any reflective processes or abstraction... Their whole lives will involve the accumulation of that abstraction which is necessary to function in society, but for now they care nothing for that sort of thing. Nor should they. He's lying naked in the bath, giggling like a fool. The way he's looking at me. Utterly unselfconscious. Utterly secure. I want to hold that image in my head. I don't ever want that image to go away. The white bath in the house on Queens road, the blue none-slip mat, Gil's full cheeks, he's about 2/3s the length of the bath, head away from the taps. The blue rug on the floor. His beige teddybear towel. When I reach down to pull him out I'll worry, because he's so slippery I might drop him. I'll wrap him in his towel, declare "baby-fajita" as I've done since his first ever bath, and carry him through to his bedroom to get him dressed... I don't ever want...
