The water thundered out of the tap, swirling and sloshing. Bubbles began to build and foam emerged. It was time. The Little Viking Lord was awaiting to captain his ship in the bathtub. The Elder Parents had removed his shield and armour which consisted of his slobber laden bib and food ravaged clothes. The Little Viking Lord was plonked on the shore with just his nappy on, he was yet to enter his ship and begin the voyage. Timing was everything. The Elder Parents couldn’t take the nappy off too soon and risk flooding. However, too late, and the Little Viking Lord would enter water that was tepid to the touch, as with all things for the Little Lord, everything had to be just right- perfect in fact.
It was time, as the nappy was removed from the Little Viking Lord, the Elder Parents hurriedly rushed him into the ship. They glanced at his face anxiously to see if it met the Little Viking Lord’s approval. We could tell that it was ‘just so’ and we relaxed marginally. As Elder Father reverently bathed the Little Viking Lord, using the ‘wax on, wax off’ routine. Elder Mother got the fresh supplies ready for when the voyage ended.
Through the haze and steam of the vapour in the air, the Elders paused and held their breath, the Little Viking Lord appeared to show signs of rising displeasure with his surroundings. The Elders had forgotten to use their crystal ball to determine the sudden change of temperament. Improvisation was required. Suddenly, Elder Mother brought out the trump card and entered into a rendition of ‘Row, row, row your boat,’ the Little Viking Lord’s temper simmered down and briefly the Elders were met with gummy smiles of approval. We had avoided the choppy seas. Elder Mother reached for the yellow rubber ducky, the Little Viking Lord’s trusty companion, to ensure the calm waters continued, for conditions were often fraught when the Little Viking Lord showed any signs of displeasure.
Elder Father then began to lather the suds on the Little Viking Lord’s head- ensuring to wash behind the ears. Gently, gently, swirl and pat. Elder Father trickled the water on to the Little Viking Lord’s tilted head. A trickle escaped the stream and fell into the eyes of the Little Viking Lord. Silly Elders! Did they not know that captaining the ship needed clear and unhindered vision? Sailing the ship in such hazy conditions was not what the Little Viking Lord had in mind. Choppy seas emerged and the ship was heading towards an iceberg of back arches, salty sea dog tears and bottom lip quiverings. The ship would surely sink at a rapid rate. Even rubber ducky looked anxious, and squeaked a little under the grasp of the Little Viking Lord.
Elder Mother rose from her earlier rendition of ‘Row, row, row your boat’ and began to do a primitive ‘beat boxing’ routine, unrehearsed, a very risky strategy indeed. The Little Viking Lord’s previously clamped shut eyelids began to flutter open, he cocked a brow, intrigued at the new dialect that Elder Mother had spoken. The iceberg was melting and the Elders had successfully escaped a critical collision. As Elder Mother continued the ‘beat box’ routine, the voyage anchored to the shore and the Little Viking Lord emerged, clean and ready for slumber. The relief of the Elder’s was palpable. As the Little Viking Lord began to drift off in his sleep, the Elders were sure that he continued to captain his ship happily along the waters, with his trusted companion, ducky in one hand and the backing track of Elder Mother’s greatest beat boxing hits in the other hand, to aid in conquering those pesky suds. It would be 24 hours before the Little Viking Lord would set sail and captain his ship again- ‘Ahoy!’