Oh, where to begin? I guess I will start with a happy hello to the lovely peoples that came to visit from Bloggy Moms. If you want to read about more than jars of http Vaseline and their waterproofing effect, check out The Gnome’s Most Popular. Not only does it have a sampling of my most read numbers, it also has a link to my very first post (if you’ve got nothing better to do). If you have no idea what Bloggy Moms is… then this is suddenly rather awkward. (You can do a quick read and pretend like you always knew what it was here.)
Now that we have that out of the way, I am going to pose a question. What on earth is with boys and baths? One mention of the word bath sends Biggest into either frenzied screaming fits, or diplomatic insistence to the tune of “bath done”. Nevermind that he secretly adores them. (The offer of bubbles and the subsequent happy sounds that come out of there until it’s stone cold gives it away.) He’ll never admit it though. We get through the tantrum on the potty and the kicking and screaming while the clothes are being pulled off (sometimes a non-occurence with the aforementioned bubbles). After he’s actually in the tub, he’s fine. Until it’s time to wash. Keeping in mind that I’m using baby soap that’s tearless, and one of the new-fangled flexible rinse buckets, I will now present you with the following scene.
Me: “Biggest, you need to lean your head back.”
Biggest: Leans forward. Gives cheeky look. “Lean back?”
Me: “Yes. Lean back. You know which way is back.”
Biggest: Leans back, then forward at the last minute.
Me: “And that, my dear child, is why I told you to lean back. If you hadn’t deliberately wiggled, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
Rinse and repeat about 4 more times, and he’s now sedate and ready to get out of the tub. Once he’s done getting his jammies, we get the hysterics about putting on his jammies. The excuse is dependent on the day. It could be that he wants me to do it, it could be that it’s “stuck” (even though his toes are peeking out the hole), it could be an all out fit.
Really, it’s not that bad. But what do I know? I only spent hours in the tub with my sis as a small child, whipping up bubbles on imagined cooking shows, bringing lego in and playing until we were pruny… Clearly I missed something and it’s a sentence just shy of 10 lashings with a wet noodle. I mean, honestly, he’s *gasp* clean!
Or it could just be that he’s a boy.
I will end the Bathtub Saga with a note on bathtub storage. I am at a loss. Being at a loss, I’ve had to improvise with a plastic basket, complete with blowtorched holes in the bottom for drainage. It appears that is my only option for now. I’ve tried everything. Suction cupped bags with “quick dry (read: mold easily)” fabric and a very low weight limit (read: falls down shortly after bath is over, trip on getting into shower next morning), buckets that didn’t have drainage at all and couldn’t get clean… At this point I’m open to suggestions.
Regardless though, bath time is still a feature length show.
EDIT: Bath time tonight was the usual hijinx with the “stuck” jammies scenario. Also, in an effort to procrastinate dishwashing, I made a Facebook page. You can find it here. Future update links will be posted through this page so that the people on my personal page that don’t want to read don’t get spammed with a link all the time. Of course, if it epic fails, I will revert to posting it through my personal page. (You can prevent that by liking it. *cheesy hint grin here*)