Chapter 9 - The First Bath With the Door Open
Maisie did not take a bath for nine weeks.
We did not force it.
She washed at the sink.
She used wipes.
She played with water in a bowl while Juniper supervised from a safe distance.
Dr. Ortiz called it rebuilding choice.
I called it learning not to cry when she flinched.
One evening in late spring, after we spent the afternoon at Larkspur Commons planting purple coneflowers, Maisie stood in the bathroom doorway and said, “Can we try the tub?”
I kept my voice steady.
“Yes.”
“But the door stays open.”
“Yes.”
“And I hold the cup.”
“Yes.”
“And no practice words.”
My throat tightened.
“No practice words.”
She thought carefully.
“And if I say stop?”
“We stop.”
She climbed in slowly.
No bubbles.
No special soaps.
Just warm water and a yellow duck she had picked herself.
I sat on the floor outside the tub, door wide open, Juniper on my lap.
Maisie dipped the cup.
Poured water over her knees.
Waited.
Nothing bad happened.
She did it again.
Then she looked at me and smiled.
A tiny smile.
But hers.
I smiled back.
That night, she asked for two stories.
I read three.
May you like
Because some rules deserve breaking.
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