The stool creaked back and forth as the young boy grasped the countertop, peeking over. His fingertips turned white and his neck craned to see the activity going on above. Water splashed in his eye and he paused to wipe it away. There in the sink was his baby brother, getting his warm evening bath. Two pink hands gathered the soapy water and threw it out to see what it would do. Nothing too exciting, only made the older boy annoyed. Maybe if he tried again... A woman's hand poured water over his bald head.
"Don't do that Angus, let's keep the water inside the sink," corrected his mother. She smiled when she received a giggle from her child. The older boy stood clear on the tips of his toes to watch his mother. She gently scrubbed him with the amber soap he'd seen so many times before. When there was enough bubbles to wash three of him, she'd rinse him off. More water splashed in his eye and into his nose. "Oops, sorry Malcolm."
"Mummy, what-what that?" the two year old pointed while the other hand wiped his eye.
"Careful Malcolm, don't stand on the stool like that, always hold on to something." Malcolm placed his hands on the countertop. "Now what do you need?"
"What that?"
"What's this?" She pointed at Angus. Malcolm shook his head and pointed at the amber liquid. "Mally, you know what this is. This is Angus' baby soap. I used it on all you kids."
"Baby toap?"
"Yeah. I used it on you all the time. Now it's Angus' turn."
"Angoose."
"Angus Malcolm, Angus. Want to say hi?" His mother wiped her hands on a dish towel and lifted Malcolm up. The view was much better from his mother's arms and he could see everything she saw. Tiny bubbles floating above Angus' head and he watched them with delight. Pudgy fingers reaching out for the yellow duck and bringing it to a curious mouth. Water dripping off the walls and kitchen cabinets from Angus' solid throwing arm.
Malcolm rubbed his eye again even though the next tidal wave missed him. It was ten minutes past his bedtime but his mother let him stay up to watch her bathe the baby. He watched the baby sit in the sink, kicking the silver plastic rim. That used to be his bath. He may not have remembered using it, but he knew he was moved to a new location once that baby came along.
Oh sure, those boys got along. As well as a couple of goldfish. They were usually doing their own thing; Malcolm with his toys and Angus getting (another) new diaper. When they were together it meant no one else was home to watch either of them so their mother had her hands full. Those hours were full of squeals and gurgles, poking and prodding, and lots of sticky fingers.
And then there were moments like these when the house was real quiet and Angus had yet to take his bath. Malcolm was allowed one extra hour to stay up and watch, then it was time for bed. The nights never stayed quiet though, as Angus would end up crying eventually for food or some extra attention.
Malcolm tried that once. He noticed Angus crying every hour one night and their mother or father would come in their room and snuggle him up. After practicing a few times he got a good cry going and even worked up a few tears. But when his mother came in she just gave him a bottle to hold by himself. No pats, no cuddles. He was big enough to hold his own bottle they said. So much for living the easy life.
Two big blue eyes blinked up at him sparkling with mirth. Angus had successfully thrown his rubber duck at his brother, hitting him right on the top of his head. Malcolm was all ready to throw something heavier at him but he was placed on the floor too soon. "Get yourself ready for bed Malcolm, I'll be up in a moment to tuck you in."
"One more hour," the boy requested. His mother sighed and looked at the wall clock. He still had forty five minutes but Malcolm saw it as a full hour. And being the toddler he was, he became a master at negotiation.
