The bath seat

One day, the big plastic infant bath bucket wasn’t working anymore. It was too small and she was too big. Time to move on.

So the bath seat arrived, which was a great addition. Part chair. Part seat belt. Part gondola. Part stationary wagon. Part roller coaster.

Plop her in, fill up the tub, and have some fun.

Of course, she grew out of the bath seat. It was passed on to the new guy, but eventually he was too squirmy and ready for freedom.

Two kids. Three-ish years. Hundreds of baths. Now the bath seat is ready for the trash. It’s moldy. Suction cups are missing. The thing probably stinks and we don’t even realize it.

The bath seats in the house don’t get much action in the baby book. More functional tool than artifact. But the bath seats are all around us, coming and going, marking little tiny seasons of life passed.

Don’t forget to remember the bath seats.