Tub Trauma

Sometimes, the only way that mommy gets to see her favorite tv shows is for daddy to strategically give Rachel a bath during that time period. Last night was one of those nights.

When she was a baby, Rachel used to wail in protest when it was time for a bath. But now that she is a hip toddler, she's changed her tune. One of the turning points was our purchase of water soluble markers so she could draw to her heart's content on the inside of the bathtub. The Ries Family...Creating Tomorrow's Graffiti Artists Today!

Still, variety is the spice of life. My wife bought these disposable hand mitts for bathtub use. When they come into contact with water, they show Rachel what a bubble bath really is. Prior to this, she shouted "I'm making a bubble bath!" only when tinkling or pooting in the tub. (Funny how that never was listed on the "Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice" Warranty.)

At any rate, Rachel received two of the hand mitts and daddy took one. Our first crisis was when I carefully washed her forehead, only to hear Baby Oedipus cry out. "Eyes! Eyes! Eyes! Eyes!"

I quickly grabbed the Hello Kitty towel and tried to stem the sting. The problem was, Rachel kept rubbing her eyes with her hands, which were covered with the mitts, which were covered in soap.

After successfully convincing her to let daddy do it, things proceeded as usual. Rachel enjoyed the bubbles and broke up in laughter as I washed her underarms.

We finally came to shampoo time. Rachel has a lot of hair and it tends to tangle and get foodstuffs caught in it on a fairly regular basis. So I meticulously tried to work out the snags and snarls while she enjoyed playing with the bubbles. It took three handfuls of shampoo to get everything in good shape.

Now I took her blue scoop and began to pour water on her hair. She tilted her head back and we got most of it off the top of her head. But the side of her head and especially the back looked like a soap bubble dish, only without the magic wand. The shampoo wasn't coming out. Or maybe it did and the soapy water remained.

I yelled out to my wife for advice and she said, "Use the sink!" Duh! So I filled the blue scoop with sink water and tossed it on the back of Rachel's hair. Rachel let out a big yelp! Oops! I forgot to make sure the water was warm.

I kid you not, my child leaped out of the bathtub like she was shot from a cannon. A naked blur sped out of the bathroom and streaked (literally) into the living room, shouting, "Mama!"

I walked out with a cockeyed grin on my face and said, "My fault. I poured cold water on her." We decided a shower was a better option.

I drained the tub, but it took several tries, because I couldn't get all the lather off the skid-free mat. Finally, I was successful.

I turned on the shower and this time, I made sure the water was warm. My wife brought Rachel back in the bathroom.

"No! No! No! No!" Rachel shouted.

"Sweetheart, do you want me to go in there with you?" my wife asked gently.

"No! No! No! No!"

We lifted her in anyway. I held the Waterpik nozzle in my hand and sprayed the soap off as quickly as I could. I then enveloped her in a towel, obeying her preference to "wrap me up like a newspaper."

I apologized to her later as she asked, "It was an accident?"

"Yes, daddy made a mistake."

And now it's time to come clean. It's time to retire the hand mitts.