When Henry was about three or four weeks old, I decided that bending over a sink to bathe him was just too difficult, especially while healing from a c-section. We started getting in the bath with him, and discovered it was SO much easier to bathe him, and he liked it better because it was warmer.
Now, we've got bath time down pat. Conrad gets home all dirty from a Geotechnical (dirt) Engineer's day's work. He starts the bath and gets in to make sure the water is the right temperature, and I hand the nakey baby to him. Conrad washes Henry, being careful of the ears and eyes, and paying special attention to the armpits, bum, inner thighs, and neck folds, where babies tend to get the grossest. He hands him off to me, who then baby powders those areas (baby deodorant, essentially), diaper and clothe him, and go finish dinner.
Sometimes I'm the one who bathes him and hands him off to Conrad, but either way, the routine is the same. Henry loves it.
One night, I got him all ready to go and wrapped in a towel, waiting for Dad to give the OK that the water was good. And Henry decided that right there, right then, was the perfect time to pee. Perfect. So I got peed on, and it was whatever.
Then this other time, it wasn't bath night, but Henry was sitting on my lap playing the funny face game, and he fooped a King Foop, and it got all over both of us and ruined a perfectly brand new white onesie. And then it became bath night for both of us.
Funny how, if it's your baby, it's not that gross.