Bubble Hat

A child in the tub

Suds gathered in two small hands

The best bubble hat

Behind the Poem...Pop!

There were a lot of bubbles in my life when I was little. Not only are bubbles fun in the bath, but they're fun in general. I used to love running around outside with a bubble wand in hand, blowing hard to see how fast they would shoot out; or, I would let them fall on my hand to see whether they would pop. I would get frustrated, however, with the shaped wands because I did not understand why whoever made them advertised star-shaped bubbles but they still came out round. I really wanted a star shaped bubble. That was just wrong. I think the bubble guns and machines made up for it though. 

I even had bubbles at my wedding. You know when you and your spouse walk out, and everyone is supposed to throw rice or bird seed? My mom bought two bubble machines that rained bubbles over top of us as we left the church building. They're pretty, they're fun, and they're kind of a wonder of science. I don't think there was a better finale.

But with all of the bubbles in my life, this poem tends to specifically remind me of being at my grandma's in the bath. I think that's because while I didn't go to her house a lot, I would usually end up getting a bubble bath there. Aside from sleeping in the living room with the fireplace, that's my main memory of being at her house when I was little - me and my sister in the bath with toys and bubbles. You can make a hat, gloves, shapes, throw them at your sibling, have pretend wizard beards, really anything is possible. Something about going up the mystical stairs to wash up just sticks with me. Though I suppose that strikes up another memory - trying to slide down and crawl up that stair case. Bubbles and stairs - that's all you need as a child. 

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