I’m an investment manager and advisor and a big part of my job is to figure what might go wrong and attempt to avoid the worst things as much as possible. That mind-set bleeds over into my family life. I’m the one that double-checks the locks on the door, makes sure we have plenty of gas in the car and that it is maintained, knows where all the emergency exists are when I enter a room, etc. My beloved wife often kids me about it. And she is right in many ways.

For example, spontaneity. Some of my favorite moments in life have occurred on a whim, including water fights between Beloved and me. In the bathroom. They would often start innocently enough such as when I’m in the shower and she turns on hot water full blast in the bathroom sink, dropping the temperature of the water that’s pouring on my shampoo-filled head to several degrees below freezing.

(OK, I know that the water wasn’t frozen yet so was probably slightly above freezing, but it FELT like it was below freezing! And maybe she hadn’t turned the hot water on quite full blast, but to this day I contend that was only so she could claim to be innocent while to me it looked like pretty damning evidence of premeditated malice.)

I let out an indignant bellow that could probably be heard by neighbors several blocks away, as shampoo was getting into my eyes and mouth.

And do I hear an apology from Beloved? NOOOOO. Just a little giggle. Then another one, slightly louder (and to my wate-clogged ears sounding a bit more taunting.)

Well, two can play at that game, so I raised the shower head over the top of the shower wall and aim the spray right at her, drenching her clothes, hair, and everything else. Now it was her turn to shriek indignantly! And how she shrieked! You’d think I was killing her! I was afraid the neighbors would hear and think something nefarious was going on in our house, but I shouldn’t have worried because by now they knew that some type of craziness was always going on in our house.

Being the mature woman and mother that she was, and knowing that our three impressionable young children were no doubt by now clustered on the other side of the bathroom door wondering if their parents had gone insane, she naturally and sensibly called a truce, right?

Yeah, right. She waited until I went back to rinsing the shampoo off my head, and out of my eyes and mouth, then grabbed a large glass–it must have held at least 2 or 3 gallons (well that’s my side of the story and I’m sticking to it)–filled it with ice-cold water, opened the shower door, and splashed it all over me.

Then the water fight began in earnest with howls of laughter, and water drenching everything from the ceiling, drapes towels, wallpaper, counter tops (I think they are called “benches” for our Aussie friends) and fixtures, to the floor.

When we had both were half-drowned and had had enough, we negotiated a truce, which takes no small amount of mutual trust in such situations as we stared each other down–me with an itchy trigger finger on the shower head, and my steely eyed foe holding two full water-glass primed for throwing.

We were both dripping from head to toe, and panting through aching jaws ached from laughing so hard.

We surveyed the damage we’d inflicted on our poor innocent bathroom, gave each other a knowing look, grabbed a bunch of dry towels from the closet, and began cleaning up the mess.

Such craziness is a large part of what brings the joy to us in our JOYoUS life.