My youngest always manages to get more food in her hair than in her mouth. Today was no exception, and she wore my homemade pizza (yum, by the way) like hair-dye frost. Time for a bath!
Unfortunately, all my kids hate having their hair washed. My 6-year-old son can be heard three counties over screaming, "My eyes! No, no! My eyes!" as I use the tearless baby shampoo on him. Bath times are a real treat for us all.
Today it was Miss Diva's turn for the torture chamber, a.k.a. bathtub. She's usually the best of them with handling the excruciating torment of having buckets of water dumped all over her. She grabbed the washcloth, covered the entire front half of her head and bravely said, "Ok, mom, I'm ready!" She took it like a trooper.
As I was rinsing her hair she tensed up and grabbed the outer edge of the tub, flooding the bathroom floor in the process. (Not that this is a new thing. I'm quite used to having to shop-vac and/or use 50 towels to mop 6 inches of water off the floor on any given evening. But still, why must they do that?!)
In response to her imitation of a tsunami I asked her, "What, are you allergic to water now?" She immediately answered, "Yes! And soap, too!"
Half under my breath I muttered, "I hope you don't expect to get a lot of dates when you're older."
My mini diva turned to me and smiled, "I'm allergic to dates, too!"
Atta girl!
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