While waiting for my niece outside a movie theater, my sister entertained herself and her 11-year-old son by walking up and down the aisles of the only store still open in that strip mall late on a Sunday evening. They had already purchased “Wonder Woman” on DVD, and the electronics store was closing.
“Mom! They have bath salt bombs,” My nephew exclaimed, and immediately started begging for the bomb.
The white, baseball-sized salt ball glistened with pink glitter and pressed green leaves.
“I just bought you ‘Wonder Woman,’” she said.
“But this is for the bath and you always say not bathing is not an option,” he argued.
Always delighted to promote solid reasoning and good hygiene, my sister immediately caved, under the condition that he not use it that night as it was already getting late.