Bathtime is a highlight around here. Not for us parents so much, but for the kiddos. If Hannah even hears the word bath she is trying to take off her clothes as quickly as possible while crawling up the stairs towards the tub. Her favorite cupboard in my bathroom contains the bath toys which she gleefully empties into the tub with wild abandon. She lives for bath night.
Lily loves it too, although she is starting to also like the shower. Still, she usually takes baths because then I can take care of her and Hannah at once. They have a lot of fun splashing around and squirting each other with their bath toys. Lily puts a washcloth on her feet and pretends to be a mermaid. Hannah likes to stick her face in the water and blow bubbles. I use the time to clean my sink. A good time is had by all and it’s free entertainment for 20 minutes.
Unless something goes wrong. Horribly, horribly wrong. The other night, the bathroom was moderately clean so instead of cleaning while the kids were bathing I sat on the floor in the hallway outside the bedroom and emailed. Suddenly I hear shrieking and not the “this bath is so much fun I can hardly stand it” kind. Lily starts screaming “poop, poop!!!” and scrambling to get out of the tub. Hannah continues to splash away oblivious to the mayhem she has just caused.
I wish I could tell you that this was like Caddyshack where it looked like there was a Baby Ruth in the pool. But we weren’t so blessed as to have a compact entity. So I fished out the kids and the hubby took one for the team and began using the bath toy fishing net to solve our problem. That wasn’t working so he used my brand new hair trap to corral the excrement and fished out all the bath toys (all of which got another bath in some warm water and bleach). Of course this happened to be one of those times where Hannah had emptied every bath toy east of the Mississippi into the tub. Fun times.
Thankfully, we have another shower just down the hall so I threw the girls in there and washed the poop off of them. What is it about motherhood that makes you say phrases like “washed the poop off them?” By this time, Lily has managed to find the humor in the situation and Hannah went on her little way still oblivious to her faux pas. Neither seems to be traumatized as they have bathed together since then. I wish I could say the same for their parents. I can say with complete and total conviction that I will not be partaking in anymore bathing extravaganzas in my attempt to be “that mom.” And I think the hubby might just make sure he has work dinners on bath night. Or next time you see them, our kids might just be really, really dirty.