Me and Janet Leigh.

When is a warm, relaxing shower -- not? Well, when you're staying in a hospital with a 3 year old.

It's always a bit nerve wracking. I'm leaving Little Warrior effectively alone in our room. I could leave the bathroom door open, or unlocked, but the PCA's job is to come in and measure how much LW has peed in a plastic hat. Let's just say we've had a couple of "oops" moments.

So, I set LW up in the fort that we built yesterday, surrounded by toys and sticker books. I explain that Mama is going to take a quick shower. She's already learned how to drag her IV pole around, so I tell her that if there is an EMERGENCY, to come bang on the bathroom door.

Like you need more foreshadowing than that.

So, I'm in the shower, enjoying the warmth, shampoo in my hair (I have come to the conclusion that the most dangerous thing you can do in the shower is to lather up your hair. That is always an impetus to disaster), thinking, you know, this shower, while clearly deficient, is not the worst I've had, when I become aware of a booming sound.

It is the sound of a 3 year old's fist, pound, pound, pounding at my door.

Oh no. The needle has pulled out of her port. Her lines have ripped. Bad things are happening! "I'm coming, just a minute!" I call, hurriedly grabbing a towel and wrapping it around me.

I open the door.

She looks up at me. She lifts up one hand, holding a sticker. Her brow furrows. "It ripped," she informs me.

Dripping, I embark on an explanation of what constitutes an emergency and what doesn't and lead her back to her fort, assuring her that Mama will be out in just a few minutes and AFTER my shower, I will help with the sticker.

Back in the shower.

"Waaaah!"

Quick rinse, "I'm coming, honey, let me put my clothes on!" Towel around hair, clothes pulled on wet body, open the door -- she gives me a look that says I have failed her, wrecked her, she'll never dedicate her first novel to me and never let me visit my grandchildren. "My foot!"

Apparently she ran over a toe with Mr. IV Pole. "Don't touch it!" she says. "Kiss it!"

I give it the barest kiss possible, which satisfies her.

I remember that I never shaved my legs.

Oh well. Quoth Little Warrior, "Nevermore."