Twenty eight weeks

I'm sure you've realized by now that I've grown far too long for kitchen sink bathing, so you can forget about scrubbing me alongside your pots and pans. I never understood your obsession with suds anyway. Our noble ancestors bathed twice annually and they seemed healthy enough. Surrender to the subtle charms of my natural infant aroma. I am too big for the sink and too small for the tub; bath time as we know it is over.

Oh, I see. Nice gadget.