"It matters." He gives me a decisive nod. "You need to be awake to judge my skills."

"What?"

"It is my first time washing someone's hair. I am sure I did a good job, of course, but you need to be awake to be able to assess my skills."

I stare at him as I rub my eyes.

"You did well, Ze," I add weakly, but no sooner are the words out of my mouth than a brilliant smile appears on his face. Oh, dear. He just wanted to be praised.

"Worthy of a bonus point?" he asks sheepishly.

I shake my head at him, once more stupefied. Even when I think I have him all figured out, he surprises me again.

"Fine. You've got your bonus point," I say.

Just as he rejoices at his meager bonus point, I take advantage of his lack of awareness to grab the shower head from him, spraying him in the face just as he did to me.

Take that! See how it feels to be sprayed unawares.

He jolts back, a look of surprise crossing his face. But it's soon replaced by a huge grin as he charges at me, wrestling me to the ground in an attempt to get the shower head from me.

Water sprays everywhere. On the walls, the ceiling. On his body, on my body. Even outside the shower stall.

Water is everywhere. So is the laughter echoing in the room as I try to keep him from gaining control of the shower head, spraying him with it whenever I get the chance. When he finally wrestles it from me, I take advantage of the shampoo container within my grasp and squirt a few drops in my hand, rubbing my palms together until it foams. Holding my hands near my face, I blow the foam into his face, rendering him immobile for a moment as I slip from under him and run out of the stall.

"You will pay for this, human," he thunders, his lashes covered in foam.

Yet how can I take him seriously with bubbles clinging to his hair?

My stomach hurts from too much laughter, and though I try to get away, I'm always looking over my shoulder, even more amused by the sight he poses. Black pants and white foam, he is the epitome of scary cute.

He realizes it, too, and to my greatest surprise, he doesn't take himself seriously as he strikes a pose, his stance that of a foam warrior ready for war.

I double over from laughter, giving him enough time to catch up with me. One last attempt to get away, and I enter the bedroom, my feet slippery as they meet the wooden floor.

"Oops," I squeal as I teeter back and forth. But then he's suddenly there, at my back, holding on to me.