Wednesday, September 11, 2013

Bath Time

I apologize to anyone reading my blog (there is someone, right?) for writing a bunch of posts about my kid rather than work related subject matter.  Now that I've gotten the apologies out of the way, here is another post about my kid.

Bath time, also known as I Can't Believe Our Bathroom Floor Is This Dirty, generally begins around 7:30 p.m.  In a previous phase of ones life, the words "bath time" might have brought to mind wine, an eye mask, and a CD of soprano saxophone music.  In the current phase of most parent's lives, the words "bath time" bring to mind utter fucking chaos.

The announcement of "It's bath time!" is typically followed by the child announcing "I want a snack!" and rifling through the snack cabinet for the most inconvenient food possible.  After wrestling a box of Zatarain's Spanish Rice mix out of his hands, we compromise on a "squirt applesauce" and head upstairs.  And by "head upstairs" I mean my husband holds the child by the armpits while the child walks horizontally up the stairs.  It's totally safe.  I don't know why, but I am always reminded of the Randal walk from Clerks, which I will now force you to watch because it's my favorite movie and everything reminds me of it:



Now that we've managed to Randal to the top of the stairs, squirt applesauce is being successfully squirted into his mouth, and we've almost made it into the bathroom where the cat who likes to drink out of the toilet is now drinking out of the bathtub.

Child:  "Aah!! Cat hair in the water!!"
Me:  [Swishes the water around a bit.]  "All gone!  Time to take your clothes off!" 
[After a good five minutes of running back and forth into the walls, child begins to remove clothes]
Child:  "Watch this!"
[Child works his underpants down to his foot, kicks his leg, and flings the underpants across the room like a burlesque dancer]
Me:  "Very impressive.  Now let's get into the tub."
[Child works his shirt up onto the top of his head and parades back and forth down an imaginary runway]
Child: "Look at my beautiful hair!"
[Husband raises concerned eyebrow]
Me:  "Okay buddy, it's time to get in the tub or we won't have enough time to read books!"
[Child finally undresses and rolls around on bathroom floor in exact spot where he drops his pee soaked Pull-Up every morning]
Me:  "I can't believe our bathroom floor is this dirty."

This seemingly quick exchange actually takes a good ten minutes.  Eventually, under the threat of NOT HAVING ENOUGH TIME TO DO STICKERS, he gets into the tub.  Then he gets back out because he forgot to use the toilet.  Then he gets back in and we spend the next few minutes negotiating water temperature (which is basically a ploy to get me to turn the tap back on so he can fill/dump/fill/dump the rinse cup).  Then we throw in all of his bath toys (see Exhibits A & B below).

Exhibit A














Exhibit B




































































The next step is for the child to yell "IT'S IN MY EYES!" before I've even come near him with the soap.

By the end of it all, my hair is frizzed up like I've been riding around on the Maid of the Mist, my pants are soaked, and my hands are totally dried out.  Of course the other end result is a fresh smelling four year old in Spiderman pajamas who really, really, wants to give you stickers.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

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