![]() Our apartment also gets extremely hot in the summertime, which means sleeping in as little clothing as possible. And this doesn’t even include all the times I’m in the shower and my children suddenly discover they need me to negotiate a critical cease-fire or solve a burning dilemma like whether or not lizards have eyelids immediately. Which means if either my husband or I are in the shower and a kid’s got to go–the kid’s got to go, everyone’s modesty be damned. In a household with five people and one and a half bathrooms, sharing is a must. They also, up until a year ago, shared a single bedroom, which meant plenty of running around in various states of undress and, periodically, re-enactments of the stripping scene from the musical “Gypsy,” while singing “You’ve Got to Have a Gimmick.” ![]() (My 12-year-old son now prefers manly showers but, every once in a while, all three of them still jump in.) They’ve been taking baths together since she was old enough to sit up in the big tub without drowning. ![]()
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