Woe is Bathtime
Stella has always loved the water. When she was a newborn in the NICU, she was given her first bath by the nurses. I wasn’t there, so they took pictures for me. They told me that Stella smiled. When we’ve taken her to the beach, we’ve had to work pretty hard to prevent this little fishie from swimming out to sea.
But all of this changed when I decided to be THE FUN MUM who gives bubble baths. You guys, I’ve traumatized my kid for life. With bubbles.
Last week, Stella needed an exceptional post-nap bath (can you guess why???? Starts with a p and ends with an oop), and I thought, hey, your hair doesn’t need washing, therefore BUBBLES! Big mistake. She was terrified. Of bubbles. I put her in the water and she screamed and screamed and would not sit down, so I took her out and showered her and she also screamed about that. Obviously.
Same thing for the next several baths (though, I nixed the soap bubbles pretty quickly, let me tell you), but add to the screaming some fierce pre-bath clinging and terrified baby face and abject refusal to have a hair washing.
What have I done.
Bathtime is now a horror show. It’s awful. Stella hates it, and is obviously scared verging on a panic attack, and I hate it because MAH BAYBEEEE! SHE SCARWED! AND CRWYING! POOWR POOWR BAYBEEEE!
I would totally have no problem with going bathless for like, four days to see if this whole thing blows over, BUT the problem is food. It gets in the hair. After one meal, those precious ringlets are trending towards dreadlock, enhanced with baby goo.
So, basically, at this stage, I’m seriously considering insisting that Stella wear a shower cap or some other type of protective head covering during meal times. Protective dinner bonnet? Teflon tuque? What to do?
(UPDATED TO ADD: Mr. Chef did bath time tonight. And it was no big deal. Stella didn’t even cry for the hair washing. Of course she didn’t. Of course. To whom should I address my letter of resignation?)