The Great Bath Battle

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I’m certain the reason God rested on the 7th day was because the evening of the 6th day was hair-washing day.  Even God needs a rest after that!

“Is it hair washing day?” The daily question around bath-time is always asked with trepidation. If its not hair washing day, she throws a literal party.  She jumps full-throttle into the tub with 8 Barbies, a boat house made from a bucket, 2 old shampoo bottles, 3 different kinds of hairbrushes, watered down conditioner to aid the Barbie brush-a-thon, boats, cars… you get the picture.  She could (and has) spent hours in the bath tub.  Today, however, is hair washing day. The merriment is gone.  There is no fun.  In fact, the anxiety level is so high I want to cry just thinking about having to wash Big Sister’s now matted, crusty, paint colored, food caked hair.

I know what you are thinking.  We should seriously wash her hair more than once a week.  Yes, I agree.  Then, after a millisecond of thought, no definitely not.  There is no way that we will endure this Godforsaken misery more often than completely necessary.  I challenge you to take on that battle and see what kind of scars you leave with, then you may judge.  Until then.. shush.

Sister: Is it hair washing day?

Mom: It’s Saturday, it’s always hair washing day on Saturday.

Sister: Just a little whiny. but I don’t want to wash my hair.

Mom: You know the rules, there is no choice.  I know, I know, not at all helping the situation.

Sister: A little more whiny.  Can I play first?

Mom: If you wash hair without screaming/yelling/fighting/water squirting…  then you can play when we are done.

Sister: Crazy whiny now.  Please, just for a minute.

Mom: Standing my ground. No, let’s get this hair washed.

All of a sudden all hell breaks loose. The screaming started, the kind that make you ears bleed yelling, kicking, more screaming, it was terrible.  In all my shining glory, I grabbed that squirming, yelling, screaming then 4 year old, and steps fully clothed into the shower.  She was shocked. She stopped everything and just stared at me.  I was furious. I was wet.   I wasn’t careful of her “ears.” I didn’t do the special cover her eyes so the soap doesn’t run in them. I didn’t even give her a towel when she fussed about the water in her face. I just held that girl and gave her the fastest, messiest hair washing of her life. Then wrapped her in a towel and put her in bed.

I would say I rivaled her in impulsivity that day.  Still, it’s a great story, it makes us both laugh, and it’s a good threat when the whining and fighting begin to escalate.  Husband says sometimes it pays to show off a little crazy. I think in this case, perhaps it did.

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