Do you ever have one those days with a toddler where it seems as though everything they do is done with the sole intention of making your life that much more difficult?
Yea. I just had one of those days. I mean, logically I know that he isn’t bent on some malice-based mission to make my life hell, but sometimes…
I’m going to brief it down to the 15 minutes I spent in the shower. For those of you not yet to the toddler stage, who can just prop your infant in a bouncy seat in the bathroom with you, or those of you fortunate enough to have napping toddlers? More shower-power to you. For me, with a 2 year old and a 5 month old? Not quite so easy.
You see, the toddler loves his baby brother. So much so, in fact, that he must be on top of him at all times. I wish that was more figurative and less literal.
I thought it would go relatively smoothly because, well, it’s not been my first shower of the week, even though daytime showers are a relatively new occurrence. Previous daytime showers have gone without a hitch thanks to the wonderful “Team Umizoomi” and a baby camped out in the bathroom with me.
Today, however, my 6 year old was sick and, thus, given reign over the television since he was home from school. This brought forth the need for the toddler to follow me into the bathroom for said shower. Fine. I’m ok with this. He’s too young to know the difference between boys and girls at the age of two. He’s also too young for free reign of the house without adult supervision.
And, frankly, I am too old to go without showering.
I load the baby into his seat and set him on the bathroom floor amidst warnings to the toddler to please not get on the baby while Mommy is in the shower, to which he shakes his head vehemently and replies, “I not, Mommy! I not onna beebee!”
I get undressed. ”Mommy, you nekkid!” ::giggle::
I get in the shower. The toddler begins playing with his toys.
I hear his voice gradually fading to the other side of the bathroom as I wet my face.
”Crawl.. crawl.. crawwwwwl.”
I peer out to see him on the bouncy seat containing the baby, crawling (obviously) across baby’s head. ”WHAT are you doing?! Get off the baby!”
He scrambles off the baby in a panic and sits at the bathroom door to pout. ”You skeere me, Mom!”
”Good! I told you to stay off the baby.. that’s naughty; he can get hurt.”
”Ohhhh-kayyyy.” He puts on his cutest, most convincing I’ve-Been-Lectured-And-Am-Now-Going-To-Listen face.
I know better, but go back into the shower to finish washing my face. I find, upon finishing, that my towel, placed just outside the tub, is missing. It’s a roughly three feet out of my reach type of missing.. because “someone” dragged it away from its original location. Did I mention I don’t function well with water in my contact lens-encased eyes?
So I step out of the tub to get the towel so I can wipe my eyes and face. ”You nekkid, Mommmm! I see yers butt.” ::giggle::
Yes, thanks.. great observation. That’s my butt.
I get back in the shower and lather my hair. When I get the shampoo rinsed, I realize it’s been eerily quiet for about two minutes. This doesn’t bode well. If I’ve learned one thing over the years, it’s that no crying is not always a good sign. So I peek around the curtain again.
Toddler is standing on the stool next to the sink, running his fingers along the basin and putting them in his mouth. He is, in fact, eating the toothpaste his older brother spit out while brushing his teeth.
”Braeden!!! Don’t eat that! That’s toothpaste! It will make you sick!” He looks up at me. ”I like it, Mom!” “I don’t care if you like it; that’s disgusting!” He hops down happily from the step-stool and starts playing with his toys again.
Baby, meanwhile, seems greatly entertained by all of this and has yet to make a peep.
I condition my hair, now able to see the toddler through the cracked shower curtain at his chosen spot on the bathroom floor. He’s playing with his bath toys. The ones that squirt water. The mold-growing water that you can never empty completely, but that, I now see, can be shaken all over the bathroom with enough force.
He then proceeds to suck the water out of one of the toys. ”Don’t drink that!! It’s dirty!!” He throws the toy down, bewildered. ”I’m get a grink, Mom!” ”If you want a drink, I will get you one when I’m done in the shower. Don’t drink out of your toys!” ”Ohhhhhh-kaayyy.” Dejected lecture-look again.
I rinse the conditioner. By now I’m on super-speed and I manage to finish the remainder of the shower in under a minute. I turn off the water and grab my towel, then step out to dry myself… amidst a small field of toilet paper. “What is THIS?!” “I not have it, Mom!” Again with the vehement head shaking.
I’m beyond the point of continuing this argument with a 2 year old. I wrap the towel around my head and clean up the toilet paper.
”You all done yers shower, Mom?”
”Yes, Mommy’s all done… Braeden! Please get your finger out of the baby’s eye. Just leave him alone, ok?”
”Ohhhh-kayyy.” Perfected look of dejection by this point.
Silence while I start to dry off.
”I see yers butt.” ::giggle::