Baby's Bath

Have I mentioned that my kid is hilarious? Ok, not lately, so here's a long awaited bout of hilarity.

My kid carries around this "baby" that's really a bear head with a blanket for a body. You know, the kind of thing that you're always supposed to own a second one? Of course, we have one. Anyway, she calls it Bear Baby. The only problem she's going to have next week when she starts preschool is that Bear Baby must stay in her backpack. Good thing she loves her backpack. I still feel sorry for her teacher.

I used to be able to get her to put Bear Baby in the front loading washing machine for a bath. It was working fine as long as I planned baths far enough away from nap or bedtime. However, suddenly she has decided that she can no longer be away from Baby for that hour, so Baby hasn't had a bath in, let's say...a month?

Baby has been to church, the pool, many public restrooms, restaurants, Camden Park (probably 6 times), and a large variety of other places in the last month. Baby smells like a butt. And every night when my darling sleeps she sucks her thumb and rubs her fingers through the germs from church, the pool, many public restrooms, restaurants, Camden Park, and a large variety of other places. And it doesn't seem to phase her that Baby smells like a butt.

I realize this is disgusting. But you should really see the enormous drawn out Scarlett O'Hara monologue that ensues every time I try to inch Baby toward the washer. It should win and Emmy. I tried stealing it from her in her sleep but she caught me. So I let the kid win one...hey...it doesn't happen often.

Well, today I got a whiff and had quite enough. I decided I was winning and it didn't matter how much I had to use my huge powers as a big mean parent to do it-Baby was getting a bath. Period. I began making announcements concerning the event upon the departure from Grammy's house. I rode all the way across town with Scarlett.

When we arrive at our house I tried giving her the option of putting it in herself.

"Don't you want to be a Mommy and give your Baby a bath?"
"NO! I CAN'T Mommy! I just CAN'T give her UP! I CAN'T give up my BABY!" Of course with this notion (which I'm thinking she might have acquired from accidentally overhearing a lifetime movie) she threw herself on the floor and began to literally wail.
"Well, pumpkin, she has to go in and get clean. Either you put her or Mommy's going to."

Of course she only clutched her tighter and rolled over on her and continued her routine. This forced me to use physical force to pry it away. (Didn't I feel totally tough for being able to overpower a 25 pound preschooler.) I carried baby off to the laundry room and the kid followed close behind crawling and sobbing. I tried to stay cheerful so I wouldn't be painted as an ogre when she tells it. I told her to tell her Baby to have a good bath and she actually said these words:

"I didn't want to give you up. She made me do it! Mommy MADE you get a bath. I hope you feel clean when you're done. I don't want to be without you."

Drama. Queen.

I finally just left her sobbing at the washer door with her face pressed to the plastic. I came back to the living room and a few minutes later she came shuffling in, shoulders hunched, head down, feet scuffing, and nose sniffling so hard I think some brain damage went on.

"What's wrong pumpkin?"
"I...can't...see...my...*sniiiiiiiiiff*...Baby any...more...*sniff sniff sniff*...She got covered up by the...blaaaaaaankies..."
"Honey...it's really going to be ok. She'll be out before you know it, and she won't STINK. I've got another blanky you can hold until then."
"Is it soft?"
"Yes! and it's CLEAN!"
"Is it pink?"
"It has some pink on it."
"Does it have a Bear for a head?"
"Um...no. But it has all those other things!"
"I guess I can hold it."

I already know this isn't going to work, but I thought it might at least hold her off for twenty minutes and she could have a visitation on Baby's way to the dryer. I gave her the insufficient Baby replacement. She held it quietly for 37 seconds.

"Mommy?"
"Yes, pumpkin?"
"Can you draw me a picture of my Bear Baby?"
"What for, honey?"
"So I can cuddle the paper you draw her on. I need to be with her."

She meant it. God be with her Preschool teachers.