The bathing evolution
November 23rd 2008 04:28
Isaac was a water baby from his first bath in hospital. He loved the bath, loved the pool and especially loved a warm dip in our backyard spa.
He very quickly outgrew the baby bath and enjoyed his nightly dip in the big tub. For a good year and a half we looked forward to the daily splash and play. We had boats, cups and plenty of games. Bathing the muppet was a lovely parenting experience…until…
One day the bath suddenly became akin to hell on earth. Isaac vigorously refused to get in. Scenes of peace became episodes of kicking, screaming, floods of tears and me throwing my back out whilst wrestling the “water baby” into the bubbles. We tried bribing, tricking, threatening, standing in the empty bath with a wet washer, sharing the bath with a dolly, sharing a bath with Mummy and even dragged out the old baby bath. But the screaming tantrums prevailed.
Buggered if I know why, but something in his little brain decided bath = BAD. Tubby-time was no longer fun.
Then one day, just as suddenly, the bath – or the “inside pool” as we now call it - was in favour again.
These days he enthusiastically watches bubbles form as the bathtub fills, rips off his clothes and nappy in anticipation and leaps into the water to bathe his trains, wash his bum and scrub dolly’s eyeballs.
The inside pool is THE place to be.
The challenge now is to get him out!
He very quickly outgrew the baby bath and enjoyed his nightly dip in the big tub. For a good year and a half we looked forward to the daily splash and play. We had boats, cups and plenty of games. Bathing the muppet was a lovely parenting experience…until…
One day the bath suddenly became akin to hell on earth. Isaac vigorously refused to get in. Scenes of peace became episodes of kicking, screaming, floods of tears and me throwing my back out whilst wrestling the “water baby” into the bubbles. We tried bribing, tricking, threatening, standing in the empty bath with a wet washer, sharing the bath with a dolly, sharing a bath with Mummy and even dragged out the old baby bath. But the screaming tantrums prevailed.
Buggered if I know why, but something in his little brain decided bath = BAD. Tubby-time was no longer fun.
Then one day, just as suddenly, the bath – or the “inside pool” as we now call it - was in favour again.
These days he enthusiastically watches bubbles form as the bathtub fills, rips off his clothes and nappy in anticipation and leaps into the water to bathe his trains, wash his bum and scrub dolly’s eyeballs.
The inside pool is THE place to be.
The challenge now is to get him out!
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