I helped Mema Take a Bath

                                      The "Hired Help": "The $1.00 security guard on high alert.

Years ago, when my grandson Captain Chaos was little, I wasn’t feeling well. Achy, tired. I thought: “Hot bath. That’ll fix me right up.”

The problem? The bathroom was on the third floor. My daughter was in the basement doing… who knows. Exercising, watching TV, maybe using that Virtual Headset I’m not allowed to touch unless supervised.

So naturally, my brain went here: “If I faint in the tub, no one’s gonna hear me.”

And then came the bright idea. (Which, for the record, is always dangerous. My bright ideas never end well.)

Captain Chaos age four, was lying on the floor, watching cartoons on an old phone. I said:

“Hey buddy, Mema’s not feeling good. I’m not gonna lock the bathroom door. Could you sit outside, watch your cartoons, and if you hear me fall, run and get your mom? I’ll give you a dollar.”

Now, he was four. Didn’t know the value of money yet. To him, a dollar might as well have been a winning lottery ticket.

 I take my bath. Nothing happens. He gets his dollar. Everybody’s happy. End of story.

Or so I thought.

That night, Rob came home from work, and we all went out to dinner.

Middle of the restaurant Captain Chaos pulls out his dollar, waves it around like he just got paid by the mob, and yells:

“Mema gave me a dollar to help her get a bath!”

I froze. Rob’s glaring at me, eyes wide like: “WHAT?!” People are staring. I’m sputtering:

“No! No no no! I paid him to sit OUTSIDE the door! OUTSIDE!”

Meanwhile, my daughter Brandy is doubled over, crying with laughter.

And Captain Chaos? Oh, he doubles down. “Yeah, Mema gave me a dollar to help her get a bath!”

Finally, Rob laughs and says:

“Geez, I thought you were making this poor kid scrub your back or something. I was like—she's not even that old!”

Thanks, Rob. Very reassuring.

And just when I thought it couldn’t get worse, the oldest grandson Sir WhatTheHeck chimes in:

“Yeah, I remember when I was really little, Mema was getting out of the shower. I picked the lock on the bathroom door. Still scarred for life.”

Perfect. Now it’s not just humiliation—it’s generational trauma over my naked body.