Hubbs is out of town. I did bath night on my own tonight, which wouldn’t be big deal if Bean didn’t turn it into the Trauma of the Century – every time. It’s the hair washing and hair rinsing that kills her. And the accidental splashing. And getting wet. And having soap on her skin (which apparently makes her messy).
We have every gadget ever conceived to make it easier for her, but tonight I decided that all the trauma is just my brilliant girl manipulating me. So when she refused to co-operate with the washing and rinsing of the hair, I rinsed anyway. And the water went into her face (no worries – it’s tear-free, I wasn’t being overly cruel). But somewhere in there she opened her mouth and inhaled. And of course that means she got some water in her windpipe and started choking.
I drowned my first born child tonight. Okay, that’s a gross exaggeration. But she sure did act like that’s what I’d just done. So I picked her up, dried her off, and made her stand there wrapped in a plush, warm towel while I combed the bird’s nest of tangles from the back of her head, as she screamed, fully traumatized by the night’s events.
While Bean screamed as though I were pulling her hair out one chunk at a time, Little Man (still sitting in the bath tub) realized that he was missing out on the drama, so for no reason whatsoever (other than empathy or jealousy) he started crying.
It’s been a fun night. Thankfully, the episode wore them both out and they’re sleeping soundly now. I think I need a big bowl of ice cream.