Wild Roses fic prompt 087 "Life"
Title: You are so cleaning that up
’Verse/characters: Wild Roses, Lydia du Lac, Donel Sabaey, Sebastian du Lac d’Sabaey (aged Three)
Prompt: 087 "Life"
Word Count: 211
Rating: G
Notes: Never trust your husband to bathe your three year old if there’s bubble bath around.
“How did you get soapsuds up there?” she asked, head tilted nearly all the way back to contemplate the high ceiling.
“Talent and practice!” her husband replied, irritatingly gleeful for a grown man dressed only in a damp gray towel and contemplating a very . . . fluffy bathroom.
She lowered her head somewhat to contemplate her husband instead. “ . . . How did you finally manage it?”
“A well flung sponge.”
She looked up at the ceiling again. “Is that really--“
His grin widened. “In the light? Oh, yes.”
“Why?”
“We’d got them everywhere else . . .” He paused to scoop up their squirming son, wrapped nearly to immobility in an adult-sized dark blue towel, bumped noses gently, then grinned at his wife again, son propped on one towel-clad hip. “We had fun, didn’t we, Seb?”
Lydia du Lac sighed. “You two did a very good job of getting suds everywhere, didn’t you.”
Sebastian nodded quickly, still wet black hair flopping into his eyes. “Da splashed me. Then I splash’d BACK, and there was WATER on the FLOOR-and he started LAUGHIN’.”
Their son extracted one hand from the towel with difficulty, pointing at a particularly long curve of suds on the floor. “Then he did tha’.”
’Verse/characters: Wild Roses, Lydia du Lac, Donel Sabaey, Sebastian du Lac d’Sabaey (aged Three)
Prompt: 087 "Life"
Word Count: 211
Rating: G
Notes: Never trust your husband to bathe your three year old if there’s bubble bath around.
“How did you get soapsuds up there?” she asked, head tilted nearly all the way back to contemplate the high ceiling.
“Talent and practice!” her husband replied, irritatingly gleeful for a grown man dressed only in a damp gray towel and contemplating a very . . . fluffy bathroom.
She lowered her head somewhat to contemplate her husband instead. “ . . . How did you finally manage it?”
“A well flung sponge.”
She looked up at the ceiling again. “Is that really--“
His grin widened. “In the light? Oh, yes.”
“Why?”
“We’d got them everywhere else . . .” He paused to scoop up their squirming son, wrapped nearly to immobility in an adult-sized dark blue towel, bumped noses gently, then grinned at his wife again, son propped on one towel-clad hip. “We had fun, didn’t we, Seb?”
Lydia du Lac sighed. “You two did a very good job of getting suds everywhere, didn’t you.”
Sebastian nodded quickly, still wet black hair flopping into his eyes. “Da splashed me. Then I splash’d BACK, and there was WATER on the FLOOR-and he started LAUGHIN’.”
Their son extracted one hand from the towel with difficulty, pointing at a particularly long curve of suds on the floor. “Then he did tha’.”