We are on a little va-ca.  Someone at Derek's work wanted to off-load their timeshare in Williamsburg and let's be honest, it's not like I am doing anything at home. 

When we showed up to our collosal living space, we were pleasantly surprised to find a 25 person jacuzzi bath tub in the bathroom.  With mirrors on every wall.  I wonder what made them stop before the ceiling. 

Anyway, I waxed on to E about the wonders of the wealthy as it relates to jacuzzi bathtubs.

K:  Buddy, if Dad had kept his other job and Mom would get her lazy ass back to work, we could live in a house that had a big bathtub like this one.
E:  THIS!!

I just wanted to put him in the jacuzzi because I figured it was a pretty low maintenance way to get him clean.  You stick him in the middle, turn the jets on, throw a little J&J baby shampoo in and he's bound to get the baby funk off.  It's not my job to clean him at night and frankly I'm a little shoddy at it normally.  There was the incident with the floating poo, so his father really doesn't leave me alone with the boy during bathtime anymore. 

He wasn't very interested in the jacuzzi however.  I waited until the obligatory water minimum line.  OK, so maybe I started the jets a little early.  It looked like an inch above to me.  What if a man was determining the minimum water level?  Is it really rocket science.

As I powered it up, water shot out two of the jets and hit the ceiling like two high-powered fire hoses.  The baby started to wail hysterically and I lunged for the power switch.  There was water everywhere.  An inch deep in the bathroom.

I guess the better half knows to point the jets DOWN in the jacuzzi if you aren't going to fill it to the top with 50 gallons of water.  Oops?