Bath time, fun time

See, I could have done a few hours of overtime today, earn a little bit more money (before tax...) and further increase the speed of my already meteoric rise within the corporate ranks (the expression "meteoric rise" has always baffled me; meteors are after all not exactly famous for their soaring properties...)
I could have done it. But I chose not to. Because I would have missed my kids' bath.
There is a price tag on quality time with my kids and the corporate behemoth that hires my services would not be able to afford it (at a time when the price of its shares is definitely meteoric and plummeting down...)
The kids have so much fun. Each one of their laughs is music to my ear, each one of their splashes washes away the strain of another stressful day at work.
This is the romantic version.

The real version is somewhat different:
Mrs Raheny: the kids need a bath
Raheny: They couldn't possibly, they had one in February, at the latest!
Mrs. R: They are going in the bath. TONIGHT!
Raheny: But honey, I have just landed a very important translation, I'd better get going or I'll never make the deadline
Mrs. R: I gave them their last bath, and it was in December, just before Christmas, remember, for the Christmas tree photographs, and it is soooo your turn!

So it was my turn. To give them their bath, act as a UN envoy during their territorial clashes, shampoo them (tough), rinse them (tougher), get them out and towel dry them, get them in their pyjamas and start the repairs on the structural damage in the bathroom (and the water damage in the kitchen below...)