It's great! I mean, I hear stories of babies who HATE water. As in, mom's can't get their kid's face wet without a wrestling match, and parents equating their child's bath experiences to those of bathing a cat. Have you ever bathed a cat? Well, I don't recommend it, and if Miss Tegan reacted to baths in such a way, she would sooner resemble Pig Pen from Charlie Brown than get a bath.
Tegan is just the opposite. She doesn't mind me just dumping water on her head (Josh does mind this however, so he always lets her off easy). She even dunks her face in the water on her own. It's pretty hilarious. It sort of reminds me of a Dog Whisperer episode where this collie had a compulisve disorder and always bits at water. Yes I compared my child to a compulsive pooch. I love her, so I can do things like this.
The problem with Tegan is the getting out of the bath part. Problem is probably a bit of an understatement. More like a "the world is about to end and I am going to fight to the death to stay alive" kind of problem. Screaming, crying, alligator rolling craziness. Josh and I desperately sing every song in our repertoire, attempt all methods of distraction, and at best, we get to lotion before she really goes bananas.
As a result, Josh and I have managed to dry, lotion, q-tip, and pajama this kid in record time. I'm talking, if there were some type of parenting rodeo, we would be tri-state camps. I mean, really quick. As soon ad she's sitting up and pajama-ed, the post-bath demon has left her body and she smiles at us like nothing ever happened. Mean while, we are taking a deep breath and wiping the spit from our faces (blatant exaggeration).
So she doesn't act like a crazed cat getting into the water. This pleases me. But turns out, even Miss Tater isn't perfect (okay, yes she is, but I'm trying to make other parent's reading this feel better about there kid). So instead, She turns into the little girl from The Exorcist when you take her out of the water, and I can live with that. I happen to enjoy horror films.
(sitting in an empty tub postponing the inevitable)
I remember these days. :) Those times when I didn't want to fight my child, I'd resort to trickery. I'd let the water out slowly, little by little, trying not to let the kid see me touching the stopper. When the water was out or nearly out, the confused child would look at me, and I'd feign compassion. Like, "Aw man... there's no more water. It's all gone. :( Well, let's just get out. I can't turn it on again..."
ReplyDeleteI love that photo!!
ReplyDelete(side note of personal experience: I stayed with my best friend recently, and one of her children, MiaBella (or Bells) is 2. The whole time I was there, I couldn't say the word 'shower' without Bells, in an ah-dorable little voice, immediately starting to chant "show-ie. me. show-ie" (pronounced like shower, with an ie for the er), while looking up and me and her mom with huge, impossibly-eye-lashed blue eyes and patting her own chest. I did not often shower alone, and I didn't mind at all. :) I was also enlisted to blow dry her soft brown curls afterwards.