Today’s idea for a working title is “Bathing my Son in the Sink: Tales of a Renter Mom.” We’re moving again. Third time in two years. Not terribly far. A house with a yard. A rent jump (understatement). Just in time for my little terminator to have more room and his parents to babyproof. Not in time to see my bulbs bloom. Not easy to explain the pain this leaves in my heart. And yet, our new place with have a bathtub. Imagine.