Then Emily laughing. I slowly walked toward the bathroom. The door was closed, but not locked. I stepped close enough to
hear them. Dad said,
Emily was sitting safely in the tub, surrounded by bubbles and bath toys.
Her eyes were closed.
My father was holding a small cup in one hand, using it to rinse her hair, while in the other hand he held one of Emily’s rubber ducks.
“Mom,” Emily laughed, “you ruined the game!”
I looked at them, confused.
“What game?”
Dad slowly smiled.
“Guess the sound.”
It turned out that a few months earlier, Emily had started being afraid of having her hair washed because shampoo had once gotten into her eyes.
Every bath had become stressful.
My father didn’t want that fear to get worse.
So he invented a game.
Emily would close her eyes, and Dad would make sounds using different bath toys—the rubber duck, a little cup, a water bottle.
Every time she guessed correctly, she earned one “star.”
After ten stars, Grandpa urm took her out for ice cream.
I stood in the doorway, feeling tears fill my eyes.
Dad looked at me.
He understood immediately.
“You were scared, weren’t you?”
I couldn’t lie.
“Yes.”
He was quiet for a moment.
Then he said,
“You did the right thing by checking.”
I looked at him in surprise.
He continued,
“A mother should always make sure her child is safe. I should have explained our game to you sooner.”
Emily opened her eyes.
“Mom, I told you Grandpa urm wasn’t doing anything bad.”
I walked over and kissed her forehead.
That evening, when Dad was getting ready to leave, he stopped by the door and said quietly,
“By the way, this
“What do you mean?”
He smiled.
“You were afraid of having your hair washed too. When you were five, I played the same game with you.”
I froze.
Then suddenly, I remembered.
Closed eyes.
