"I didn't know you, Jay Leno, and a monkey were bathing a clown."
Before the boys could sit up unassisted, bath time took a long time. I had to bathe each child individually, the boys one at a time in their infant tub, and Abbie separately in the regular tub. Each child would get soaped up individually, rinsed off individually, and dried off individually, though they would get ticked off as a group when so much attention would be focused on one child.
Once the boys could sit up, I could throw everybody in the tub at once and wash all three simultaneously. I only had to run the bath water once, soap up the washcloth once, and drag out the carpet cleaner once after someone peed without wearing a diaper.
My idyllic days of consolidating bathing are over I fear. While growth in children is great for mental development and getting that car seat turned around, it’s tough on bathtub real estate. That’s especially true with three growing children taking up space with three growing bath toy collections. It also doesn’t help that, ever since we went swimming in that hotel pool, Abbie insists on lying down in the tub to simulate that pool experience.
We’d still be in good shape if everybody could sit still, or at least migrate to separate tub regions in an orderly fashion. One child could play with cups on the right side, another could play with the penguin stacker in the middle, and the other could play with the pirate ship on the left side. Every couple minutes they could move one spot to the left with the pirate ship player moving to the cups, and everybody sticking to their left as they walk or crawl. It’s perfect, and I don’t know why children with a combined four years of experience can’t understand it.
Instead, everybody jumbles under the faucet, occasionally dragging a toy into the wriggling mass of pink skin. The boys think that water pouring out of the faucet is the coolest thing in the world, much better than an overturned box of Tasteeos. Even when the faucet is off, it makes a handy chew toy. Abbie likes hanging out by the faucet to play with the shower control, and to make sure the drain is closed and the tub stays full. The result is children crawl all over each other to be closest to the fountain, shoving appendages into various body parts, pushing faces into running or standing water, and causing children to fall face first in close proximity to the protruding metal faucet.
The solution is to start giving separate baths again. The boys should still be okay together, and Abbie will get the privilege of not having to fight over the bath cups. I was going to have to do this eventually anyway, what with the different equipment and all, I was just hoping it could wait until Abbie develops a sense of shame. It’s just as well that I do it now, because I can’t shake the feeling that I’m causing long-term damage to someone when Abbie plays the “point to a body part, and daddy will name it” game.
So we’re halfway back to separate baths. It’ll take more time, but I was looking for a way to fill that post-supper lull anyway now that it gets too dark too early to go to the park.
Once the boys could sit up, I could throw everybody in the tub at once and wash all three simultaneously. I only had to run the bath water once, soap up the washcloth once, and drag out the carpet cleaner once after someone peed without wearing a diaper.
My idyllic days of consolidating bathing are over I fear. While growth in children is great for mental development and getting that car seat turned around, it’s tough on bathtub real estate. That’s especially true with three growing children taking up space with three growing bath toy collections. It also doesn’t help that, ever since we went swimming in that hotel pool, Abbie insists on lying down in the tub to simulate that pool experience.
We’d still be in good shape if everybody could sit still, or at least migrate to separate tub regions in an orderly fashion. One child could play with cups on the right side, another could play with the penguin stacker in the middle, and the other could play with the pirate ship on the left side. Every couple minutes they could move one spot to the left with the pirate ship player moving to the cups, and everybody sticking to their left as they walk or crawl. It’s perfect, and I don’t know why children with a combined four years of experience can’t understand it.
Instead, everybody jumbles under the faucet, occasionally dragging a toy into the wriggling mass of pink skin. The boys think that water pouring out of the faucet is the coolest thing in the world, much better than an overturned box of Tasteeos. Even when the faucet is off, it makes a handy chew toy. Abbie likes hanging out by the faucet to play with the shower control, and to make sure the drain is closed and the tub stays full. The result is children crawl all over each other to be closest to the fountain, shoving appendages into various body parts, pushing faces into running or standing water, and causing children to fall face first in close proximity to the protruding metal faucet.
The solution is to start giving separate baths again. The boys should still be okay together, and Abbie will get the privilege of not having to fight over the bath cups. I was going to have to do this eventually anyway, what with the different equipment and all, I was just hoping it could wait until Abbie develops a sense of shame. It’s just as well that I do it now, because I can’t shake the feeling that I’m causing long-term damage to someone when Abbie plays the “point to a body part, and daddy will name it” game.
So we’re halfway back to separate baths. It’ll take more time, but I was looking for a way to fill that post-supper lull anyway now that it gets too dark too early to go to the park.
posted by Matt at
11:50 PM
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