Every Sunday morning I bathe the kids, take them out to the patio, cut their long finger and toe nails, clean out their ears with Q-tips, dress them, and comb their hair. They look clean and absolutely adorable for one day of the week. The people that go to our church would never know that my children usually sport a black layer of dirt on the bottoms of their feet, a layer of sand on their scalps, a chocolate or some sort of sticky mustache on their upper lips, and a thin line of sweaty dirty lint in the crease on thier necks below their chins. Keeping them clean is a constant struggle. We don't have a bathtub in our apartment. Just a small shower that drains really slowly. It also takes about an hour for the water heater to heat up the water for a shower. It takes a lot of planning, this shower thing. But its worth it if I want to see anything besides the whites of my children's eyes. Fortunately, my children can boast a clean lifestyle. They play. What's cleaner than good clean fun. They are allowed to get dirty. They are allowed to take off their shoes in the sandbox at the park. They are allowed to touch the kitties at the park. Sometimes I let them put their hands in their cups of water at the dinner table. Shhhh! Don't tell anyone! Sometimes I even let them eat a pretzel that fell on the ground. Oh, and I don't freak out when Cinci decides to eat the sand at the sand box. I am well aware that the sand is the nastiest and probably the worst thing he could possibly eat, but I am also onto Cinci's tactics. He knows he can get a reaction out of me when he eats sand. I used to react. I'd say, "Oh no. Don't eat that," as I'd lunge at him and try to get the sand out of his mouth. The moment I put him down he'd look at me to make sure I was watching and then do it again. I've finally decided to not react. He actually doesn't do it more than once if I don't react. You see, he really doesn't like the taste of sand. He just loves to see Mommy get that look on her face and suddenely move. It's like a magic trick. But he's finally lost his touch. He'll have to find another way to make me react, and he will.