Splish Splash
About three months ago I wrote a post outlining Henry’s disdain of bathing. For the longest time he despised everything to do with baths: the water, the soap, the washcloth. This was in sharp contrast to his father, who thinks that a nice, warm shower will cure any ills, and his mother, who thinks that limiting her shower to only 23 minutes in the morning qualifies as “hurrying up”. (Don’t even get me started.)
Like everything else, things started to change. By October, he began to tolerate them. By November, he would, if so inclined, splash a bit, but not much. By December, he smiled — smiled! — when we squeaked one of his numerous bath toys given to him by his cousin. And last night, it all came together.
Smiles! Splashing! Squirming!
Bath time actually became fun! No more hurrying through in two minutes just so he wouldn’t cry. No more running around making sure his pajamas and lotions and diapers were all at the ready so he wouldn’t be naked for more than 15 seconds.
For the sake of our knees, we’ve added a garden kneeling pad that has made it less painful (physically) for Kristen and me. And we now have not one, but two baby bath-towels so in case one is a little too moist, it can easily be replaced with another.
This bathing progress is, as you can imagine, yet another great thing. Slowly but surely, things that he hated and made him cry (his car seat, bathing, being held by his father) are no longer horrible, terrible things, and instead it’s all been replaced with the wonderful gummy smiles of a baby.
Clean, gummy smiles.
