Ep. 23: The Little Things

Some 40 or so years ago, I was a little boy in a bathtub 

who loved using his little Snoopy foam bath mitt.

Tuesday, April 15, 2013

(The Peekskill Commuter is being broadcast from New York City all week long)

By six and our arrival to 110th, a certain lethargy has overcome me.

I am desperate for either a nap or a 50 cent cup of coffee at the G&M bodega on the corner.

Since Milo will likely be eager to play ball as soon as I walk in the door, I'll have to take that coffee - a little milk, one sugar please; stirred, not shaken.

Making myself a dry and dirty martini might be nice too, but not very conducive to active engagement with a toddler who is overjoyed to see his Papa return home.

Seeing Milo smile, hearing him laugh, feeling his resigned embrace as he falls asleep on my shoulder, these are the tiny pleasures that I truly live for.

In addition to the joy that my children give me, there are many minor things that make a big difference.

For instance, today I received an order from Amazon of 40 bars of miniature Neutrogena french milled soap. We are going to use them as courtesy bars whenever guests stay in our apartment. I purchased this particular brand and scent because it reminds me of my childhood.

Some 40 or so years ago, I was a little boy in a bathtub who loved using his little Snoopy foam bath mitt and the french milled soap that came with it. The innocent pleasure of an unhurried bubble bath and the smell of this soap are inextricably bonded forever in my memory.

Thus, since the day I rediscovered this soap at a long forgotten hotel we stayed in during some vacation, I have forever been on a mission to find it again.

Two nights ago, via pure serendipity, I found it and immediately ordered enough for me to share the wealth with those we welcome into our home.

Tonight, while we took a bubble bath together, I took a bar and shared the scent with Milo. He sniffed at the box and crinkled his nose and smiled. Seeing his reaction, combined with the fragrance that triggered an indulgent exorcism of this 40-year-old scent from the deepest synaptic recesses of my life, reminded me that it is indeed the little things that count..

Bubble baths with Snoopy and this soap 

are inextricably bonded forever in my memory.