Bath time makes me want to slit my wrists. I always envisioned bath time as a blissful little bonding period where children splashed merrily about and I cheerily washed their hair without issue. HELLO.
Oh, sure, she looks perfectly pleasant here but only because I promised we'd go upstairs and have a treat if she was good in the bath. And by good I mean just screamed for half the time instead of the whole thing. Are baths that unpleasant? In the summer I demand a bath nightly, because, well, I don't like pungent odors. In the winter I compromise with every other night and they act like I'm water boarding them.
I always brace myself before announcing it's bath time. (Breathe in and then faux exuberance): "Girls! Let's go have fun in the bath!" Lately the response is such: "How bout Friday?" Whenever they don't want to do something, they suggest we reschedule for Friday. Why Friday? I don't know -- why the hell not? They're crazy, that's why. My favorite is when they use this argument on Friday and I feel an inexplicable sense of superiority. "It is Friday," I inform them condescendingly.
When we finally get out of the bath, they go ballistic that they're freezing, even though I have a (probably illegal and dangerous) space heater blaring at 90 degrees and I'm sweating like a pig who was forced to do a spin class during summertime at the zoo. They yell "I cold!" over and over as if I sent them to Antarctica naked to sit on an emperor penguin egg. Sheesh.
So my answer to this has been, of course, bribery -- my favorite and most effective parenting tool to date. They received new (VERY WARM) Pottery Barn animal towels (above, which I will dock from their lunch money come grade school), lollipops and Dora coloring books with nifty little sparkly stickers. I'm thinking of buying them each a Ferrari and calling it a day.
Or I may just let them be filthy and pretty soon maybe they'll realize the human population will recoil in their presence. Oh, right, they'll like that because they hate humans. And speaking of which, the skinny, orange one just asked for a dog. She said, "I want puppy RIGHT NOW" so I gave her the pink stuffed one she got for Valentine's Day. She threw it back at me and yelled, "No, I want real puppy RIGHT NOW!" Because I think my kids are adults I asked, "Who will walk it and clean up its poop?" to which she informed me that Mommy would. Right, and Suri Cruise is coming to your third birthday party. Beat it.
Is it 2026 yet? Because I think that's when they leave for college.