Shampoo

Olivia has always loved baths. When she was an infant, I often joked that she was the cleanest baby in the state of Indiana because there were days when I gave her up to three baths. This was because the only time she wasn’t crying was when she was eating, sleeping, or bathing. And the sleeping part? Wasn’t often enough in the early days.

She still loves her bath time. She often asks to wear a swimsuit so she can ‘swim’ in the bathtub.

Last night was one such ‘swim.’ First, though, she had to get in the tub without the swimsuit so we could wash the red paint off her hands and stomach. Why did she have red paint on her hands and tummy? Because we’re going to a birthday party this coming weekend and the birthday girl asked for pet rocks instead of toys as presents.

So A and O are painting rocks. And since O’s favorite color is red, she painted her rock red. She also painted her hands and her tummy red.

So into the tub she went to wash off the red paint. Once she was clean, I let her put on a swimsuit. Do you know how hard it is to put a swimsuit on a child who is already wet? It’s tough. But we managed it.

Then I went about my business in the bathroom while she ‘swam.’ For those who worry, I never actually left the room, but our bathroom is big enough that the tub can be out of sight even to someone still in the room.

So yes.

At one point, I realized she’d been quiet for several minutes so I called out, “Livie? You doing okay?”

Silence.

“Olivia?”

“What?”

“Whatcha doing?”

“Shhhhh.”

Now, whenever Olivia shushes me, I know she’s up to something.

I peeked around the corner and flipped right the heck out.

She was holding a bottle of shampoo upside down, squirting the last dredges of into what was now slimy water. Because you see, this bottle of shampoo? It was purchased just last Saturday. It had not yet been used. Not once.

She’d poured the entire bottled into her bathwater. Some of it had made it on her head, though. Perhaps a third of the contents of the bottle, in fact.

I took the bottle away from her and said (probably more sternly than necessary), “You are not allowed to have shampoo by the tub EVER again.”

Her face crumpled and my heart broke. I can be such a bitch sometimes.

And the biggest thing is that this was my fault. She’s FIVE flipping years old. She saw a bottle of shampoo, knew how to get it open and went about opening it. Who can blame her? I shouldn’t have been around the corner. I should have been right there.

I’ve learned, though. Shampoo will now be used as it is meant to be used and then put out of reach. Foam soap? That can be used up as much as she wants.

I rinsed her hair and soothed her tears. I told her I was sorry I’d gotten so angry and that even when I’m mad I always love her. I also told her I was sorry that I had left that shampoo right there was temptation.

She seemed to forgive me after I dried her off, helped her put her jammies on and gave her a bowl of corn flakes before bed.

The moral of this story? Even the tear-less formula of shampoo can sting little eyes when it’s used by the bottleful.