Go Figure

For months now, Bud, and to some extent Sis, has been terrified of having his hair washed. I don't mean grumpy about it. But scared. Petrified. So bath time has been a real struggle, even though we only wash hair as minimally as possible. And it's not just me that has a problem getting his hair washed. Mama can't manage it either. Nor can Ma. And while we do not want to give in to any kind of tantrum or manipulation, we do want to recognize and respect real fear. We've tried cups, titling heads back, covering ears and eyes with washcloths, the shower head spray, letting them pour the water themselves, letting them wash our hair first, even goggles for protection. You name it. Nothing has worked.

Having heard them giggling for awhile now, I just popped my head into the bathroom where they are still playing. And Bud dumps a full cup of bubbly water on his head. Repeatedly. With a smile on his face. And he's still doing it! And enjoying it . . . . "I'm going to tell Mama and Gommie and Ma that I can wash my own hair! I'm an expert hair-washer."

There's no telling with kids, I say.

I'm Sitting on the Toilet

Yep, sitting on the closed toilet, with the laptop on my legs. Bud is in the bedroom watching "Ni Hao, Kai-lan" and the Ladybug Festival, while Sis is having her Friday afternoon bath (Fridays are wonky here--pjs all day, tv in bed in the morning, baths in the middle of the day, and today we made cookies).

I wasn't done blogging but couldn't let her play alone in the tub. So, I brought my "work" with me. She plays by herself anyway, and I was almost done. But I wanted to be able to hear her clearly and be nearby.

And then she wanted a spoon. From the kitchen. Downstairs. What to do? I didn't want to leave her in the tub by herself, so I had her stand outside of it on the mat while I raced downstairs for a spoon.

Twice.

Because the first spoon wasn't right, nor was the second, actually. Bud fetched the third, being done with his episode.

So now they are both in the tub, with spoons and paints and cups and boats and plastic animals and some olive oil for their dry skin. And I'm on the toilet typing about what they are doing.

Parenting is as wonky as our Fridays.

So, the question is: at what age would you let your kids bathe alone?