Once a day, I lie down in a horse trough wearing only my birthday suit. Horses lean over the side alone or in pairs and sloppily drink from the trough while I watch in horror and amazement. If anything is resting on the side of the trough, the horses knock it over so that it clonks me in the face. They lean over and give me giant slobbery kisses as an apology for the injury. When the horses have filled up on my water, they wander off, leaving a trail of water and paw prints. Suddenly, I am transported to an empty kiddie pool that Evan and Amy feel compelled to fill with toys. The toys are dropped, thrown and hurled at me from every direction. When there are so many toys that the water is no longer visible, the children’s clothes vanish and they jump into the toy filled pool. Once in the water, Evan demands a horse ride, drives cars up and down my legs and fights for whatever toy his sister holds in her hands. When I complain about the crowding and fighting, they switch tactics and gang up on me. Water becomes a weapon to spit, squirt and splash. This is the point when we realize that this is the bathtub and Doug is standing beside us complaining about the water dripping down into the basement and the noise we are making. Then, he gives me an evil eye and asks, “Why does it take you so long to a bath?” I telepathically answer him with words that I can’t post here.