We have very independent children.
And most of the time, I'm very happy about it.
Until it scares the crap out of me.
Christmas Day was a great, layed back day, spent playing with new toys and games. At one point in the evening, I realized I had not seen or heard Isabelle in a while. Don't make a hasty judgement... the four of them had been all over this house, upstairs reading books, playing babies/tractors, in the living room watching t.v., eating in the kitchen, playing in the basement with the wii. I thought maybe she had gotten tired and layed down somewhere and fell asleep.
I was right.
Except for instead of being in a random corner fully clothed, she had decided to bathe before bed.
I snapped a quick photo before I got her out of the tub, dried off, and into her jammies, but after I checked for breath sounds and a pulse. It took about a half hour of snuggle time in her bed for my heart rhythm and blood pressure to return to normal.
Never mind the tattoos.