#bathtime blues

Junera would not guess. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction, even if he’d bought her that power wheels for her birthday.

“It’s bathtime!” Junera watched her father do jazz hands and then looked back down at her book. “No.” She didn’t have time to take a bath. She needed to see if George would crash the rocket like Uncle Lance crashed the station wagon. If he didn’t, he might be paladin material. From the door, she heard her father sigh. “Junera…” “No!” She repeated her response again with gusto. Her aunts and uncles always told her about words like ‘Gusto’ and ‘jazz hands’ and Uncle Keith had taught her how to use the dictionary and it always made her feel smart to know what they meant. As she read the people in the book countdown, a shadow loomed over her. Junera looked up to see her father, hands on his hips, giving her a look she’d seen him give Uncle Lance when he’d crashed the station wagon. Why, though, was beyond her. She hadn’t crashed anything. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way.” her father said. “What about the medium way?” said Junera. “Okay, we can do this the easy way, the hard way, or the medium way.” Junera looked up at her father over her shoulder. “What about the right way?” Her father pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine, we can do this the easy way, the hard way—” “What about the left way?” “Junera!”

Shiro had gotten his daughter undressed, promised that they would watch a movie afterward, that he would keep her place in her book while she was bathing, gotten her the hot-pink bathrobe with her name on it in yellow curlicue lettering she’d gotten for Christmas, He had made sure the water was not too hot or too cold, it was just right. He had gotten Pogo the Bathtime ducky and Frida the Bubble bath frog (Uncle Hunk had told her that she couldn’t have a bubble bath without a froggie, even though Shiro had taken hundreds without one). He’d made sure the shampoo was tear-free. And He’d even gotten the grown-up’s bubble bath from his and Allura’s bathroom (lavender-scented). Now, all that was needed for Junnie to get into the tub. If Shiro didn’t know any better, he’d swear that his daughter was just trying to get back at him for pulling her away from her favorite book. He turned to face his daughter, who was standing dangerously close to the door. “Okay, young lady,” he said, using his ‘Lance, Keith stop fighting’ voice, “Time to get in the tub.” Junera shook her head. “No.” she said, “not until you get in.” Shiro balked at her. “You want me to bathe with you?” “Yes.” “Well, okay.” It was a small price to pay for his daughter’s cleanliness. Shiro had just pulled his shirt over his head when he felt something soft, like fabric, land on his feet.

Don’t be a robe, Shiro prayed, unless my beautiful, smart, obedient daughter is getting into the bathtub, please don’t let it be a robe.

A hot pink bathrobe lay at his feet. He didn’t see Junera leave, but he heard her footsteps and voice as she ran down the hall. “Anarchy! Anarchy!” Shiro ran a hand through his hair as if that action would solve all his problems. “Where did she even learn that word?” he asked no-one.

Allura was roused from her peaceful slumber by what sounded like panicked yelling. Which was odd, because nobody had set the kitchen on fire since Krolia had tried to bake Keith a birthday cake. Baby Alfor was on her lap, half dozing himself. Gathering her son up in her arms, Allura headed towards the sounds. What she found was her husband (delightfully) half naked chasing their naked daughter through the house, while Shiro tried to reason with her. She smiled as Alfor shifted in her arms. First she would put Alfor to bed and then she would help her husband accomplish the biggest mission he’d ever faced as the Black Paladin of Voltron: get Junnie into the bath and to bed.