"Bankey Boy"

You know what's a travesty? Bath time. Not for me, but for Bankey Boy. If only you could see the distraught look on my face as I watch Bankey Boy tumble to and fro in the washer. Mommy said he needed a bath. I quickly learned his bath takes a lot longer than my baths. And then, don't get me started on the drying phase. I was an absolute mess. For two hours I cried off and on as I called his name, "Bankey Boy!" As any good parent would, I checked on him frequently. But it brought me no comfort. Only when he was returned to me, clean and a bit warm as well as emitting a nice fragrance I might add, did I finally relinquish my anguish and return to my normal state. Separating me and Bankey Boy is like separating peanut butter from jelly. It's sheer devastation.