Captain

Too bad most of our non-German-bred readers do not know the words to the song "In meiner Badewanne bin ich der Kapitän" (in my bathtub I am the captain), otherwise you could help us form a transatlantic-inter-European choir of soothers helping Captain Karl weather the first storms in his olive oil filled baby bath bucket. Yes, it's olive oil those strange bubbles in the water. What'd you think it'd be? Makes a baby's butt soft like, well, yeah, a baby's butt.

That Sunday bath night actually proved the lifestyle supremacy of our neighborhood, since we discovered we're out of olive oil around 7PM on a Sunday night, which is the official time when weekendish Germany isn't just dead but starting to decompose. But we didn't have to walk far to score a bottle of fancy ecorrect olive oil, advertised as having a "faint scent of tomato", which definitely beats the disctinct smell of ..... *##*%&#$(&@#$ .... sorry. No- poop-and-fart-stories-policy is of course still in effect.